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Transcription of the printed text and annotations created from digital images of the British Library copy of the 1611 quarto. Annotations were checked against the original.Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616.HamletThe tragedy of Hamlet Prince of DenmarkeS11110361825891009084BL C.34.k.4British LibraryThis nineteenth-century hand appears only in the library housekeeping annotation ‘K. Shakespeare (W.)’ on the blank page facing the titlepage.This nineteenth-century hand appears only in the library housekeeping annotation ‘C.34.k.4’ (the shelfmark) and the crossing through of the previous shelfmark on the blank page facing the titlepage.This nineteenth-century hand appears only in the library housekeeping annotation ‘C.34.e.5’ (shelfmark, crossed through by hand ab) on the blank page facing the titlepage.This eighteenth-century hand appears only in the bibliographic annotations on the titlepage. ‘H.XXXII’ refers to the play's place in the original bound volumes, which were arranged by Edward Capell as he catalogued Garrick's collection.This nineteenth-century hand appears only in numeral on sig. B2r .This seventeenth-century hand appears only in two minor annotations on sig. D3v .This seventeenth-century hand appears only in one annotation on page F3v .This seventeenth-century hand appears only in one annotation on page N4v .This eighteenth-century hand appears only in one annotation on page N4v .

In a 19th-century English gold tooled red grained sheep binding with the coat of arms of David Garrick tooled in gold in the centre of both covers. Author, title, place and date of publication are lettered in gold up the flat spine within a gold cartouche “SHAKESPEARE. HAMLET. LONDON. 1611”. The edges of the boards and the turn-ins are gold tooled. The edges of the leaves are gilt. With comb marbled paper endleaves. Signed at the top on the turn-in of the upper cover “TUCKETT. BINDER. BRITISH MUSEUM”.

THE TRAGEDY OF H.XXXIIHAMLETPrince of Denmarke.BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.Newly imprinted and enlarged to almost as much againe as it was, according to the true and perfect Coppy.Printer's mark depicting a bird and the motto “NON ALTVM PETO IS”.AT LONDON, Printed for Iohn Smethwicke, and are to be sold at his shoppe in Saint Dunstons Church yeard in Fleetstreet. Vnder the Diall. 1611.The Tragedie of HAMLETPrince of Denmarke.Enter Bernardo, and Francisco, two Centinels.Bar.VVHose there?Fran.Nay answer me. Stand and vnfold your selfe.Bar.Long liue the King.Fran.Barnardo.Bar.Hee.Fran.You come most carefully vpon your houre,Bar.Tis now strooke twelue, get thee to bed Francisco.Fran.For this reliefe much thanks, tis bitter cold,And I am sick at heart.Bar.Haue you had quiet guard?Fran.Not a Mouse stirring.Bar.Well, good night:If you doe meete Horatio and Marcellus,The riuals of my watch, bid them make hast.Enter Horatio and Marcellus.Fran.I thinke I heare them, stand ho, who is there?Hora.Friends to this ground.Mar.And Leegemen to the Dane,Fran.Giue you good night.Mar.O, farewell honest souldiers, who hath relieu'd you?Fran.Bernardo hath my place; giue you good night.Exit Fran.BMar.The Tragedy of HamletMar.Holla, Barnardo,Bar.Say what is Horatio there?Hora.A peece of him,Bar.Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus,Hora.What ha's this thing appeard againe to night?Bar.I haue seene nothing.Mar.Horatio sayes tis but a fantasie,And will not let beleefe take hold of him,Touching this dreaded sight twice seene of vs,Therefore I haue intreated him along,With vs to watch the minuts of this night,That if againe this apparition come,Hee may approue our eyes and speake to it.Hora.Tush, tush, twill not appeare.Bar.Sit downe awhile,And let vs once againe assaile your eares,That are so fortified against our story,What wee haue two nights seene.Hora.Well sit wee downe,And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this.Bar.Last night of all,When yond same starre thats westward from the pole;Had made his course t'illume that part of heauenWhere now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfeThe Bell then beating one.Enter Ghost.Mar.Peace, breake thee off looke where it comes a­ (gaine,Bar.In the same figure like the King thats dead.Mar.Thou art a Scholler speake to it Horatio.Hora.Most like, it horrowes me with feare & wonder.Bar.It would be spoke to.Mar.Speake to it Horatio.Hora.What art thou that vsurpst this time of night,Together with that faire and warlike forme,In which the Maiesty of buried DenmarkeDid sometimes march: by heauen I charge the speake.Mar.It is offended.Bar.See it staukes away..HoraPrince of Denmarke.Hora.Stay, speake, speake I charge thee speake.Exit Ghost.Ma.Tis gone and will not answere.Bar.How now Horatio, you tremble and looke pale,Is not this something more then phantasie?What thinke you of it?Hora.Before my God I might not this beleeue,Without the sencible and true auouchOf mine owne eyes.Mar.Isit not like the King?Hora.As thou art to thy selfe:Such was the very Armor hee had on,When hee the ambitious Norway combated,So frownde hee once when in an angry parleHee smote the sleaded pollax on the ice.Tis strange.Mar.Thus twice before and iump at this dead houre,With Martiall stauke hath hee gone by our watch.Hora.In what perticular thought, to worke I know not,But in the grosse and scope of mine opinion,This bodes some strange eruption to our state.Mar.Good now sit downe, and tell me hee that knowes,Why this same strict and most obseruant watchSo nightly toyles the subiect of the land,And with such dayly cost of brazen CannonAnd forraine marte for implements of warre,Why such impresse of ship‐wrights, whose sore taskeDoes not deuide the Sunday from the weeke,What might bee toward, that this sweaty hastDoth make the night ioynt labourer with the day,Who ist that can informe mee?Hora.That can I.At least the whisper goes so, our last King,Whose image euen but now appea'd to vs,Was as you know by Fortinbrasse of Norway,Thereto prickt on by a most emulate prideDar'd to the combate; in which our valiant Hamlet,(For so this side of our knowne world esteemd him)Did slay this Fortinbrasle, who by a seald compactWell ratified by law and HeraldryB240DidThe Tragedy of HamletDid forfait (with his life) all these his landsWhich hee stood seaz'd of, to the conquerour.Against the which a moity competentWas gaged by our King, which had returneTo the inheritance of Fortinbrasse,Had hee beene vanquisher; as by the same comart,And carriage of the articles deseigne,His fell to Hamlet; now Sir, young FortinbrasseOf vnimprooued mettle, hot and full,Hath in the skirts of Norway heere and thereSharkt vp a list of lawlesse resolutesFor food and diet to some enterpriseThat hath a stomake in't, which no otherAs it doth well appeare vnto our stateBut to recouer of vs by strong handAnd tearmes compulsatory, those foresaid landsSo by his father lost; and this I take it,Is the maine motiue of our preparationsThe source of this our watch, and the cheefe headOf this post‐hast and romeage in the land.Bar.I thinke it be no other but euen so;Well may it sort that this portentous figureComes armed through our watch so like the KingThat was and is the question of these warres.Hora.A moth it is to trouble the mindes eye:In the most high and palmy state of Rome,A little ere the mightiest Iulius fellThe graues stood tennantlesse, and the sheeted deadDid squeake and gibber in the Romane streetsAs starres with traines of fire, and dewes of bloudDisasters in the Sunne; and the moist starre,Vpon whose influence Neptunes Empier stands,Was sick almost to doomesday with eclipse.And euen the like precurse of fearce euentsAs harbingers preceading still the fatesAnd prologue to the Omen comming onHaue heauen and earth together demonstratedVnto our Climatures and contrimen.Enter Ghost.ButPrince of Denmarke.But soft, behold, lo where it comes againeIle crosse it though it blast mee: stay illusion,It spreads his armes.If thou hast any sound or vse of voice,Speake to mee, if there be any good thing to bee doneThat may to thee doe ease and grace to mee,Speake to mee.If thou art priuy to thy contryes fateWhich happily foreknowing may auoyd,O speake:Or if thou hast vphoorded in thy lifeExtorted treasure in the wombe of earth,For which they say your spirits oft walke in death.The Cocke crowes.Speake of it, stay and speake, stop it Marcellus.Mar.Shall I strike it with my partizan?Hor.Doe if it will not stand.Bar.Tis heere.Hor.Tis heere.Mar.Tis gone,We doe it wrong being so MaiesticallTo offer it the showe of violence,For it is as the ayre, invulnerable,And our vaine blowes malicious mockery.Bar.It was about to speake when the cock crew:Hor.And then it started like a guilty thing,Vpon a fearefull summons; I haue heard,The Cock that is the trumpet to the morne,Doth with his lofty and shrill sounding throateAwake the God of day, and at his warningWhether in fea or fire, in earth or ayre,Th'extrauagant and erring spirit hyesTo his confine and of the truth heereinThis present obiect made probation.Mar.It faded on the crowing of the Cock.Some say that euer gainst that season comes,Wherein our Sauiours birth is celebratedThis bird of dawning singeth all night long,And then they say no spirit dare sturre abroadeThe nights are wholsome, then no plannets strike,No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charmeB3SoThe Tragedy of HamletSo hallowed and so gratious is that time.Hor.So haue I heard and doe in part beleeue it,But looke the morne in russet mantle cladWalkes ore the dew of yon high Eastward hill:Breake wee our watch vp and by my aduiseLet vs impart what wee haue seen to nightVnto yong Hamlet, for vpon my lifeThis spirit dumb to vs, will speake to him:Doe you consent wee shall acquaint him with itAs needfull in our loues fitting our duety.Mar.Lets doo't I pray, and I this morning knowWhere wee shall find him most conuenient.Exeunt.Florish. Enter Claudius, King of Denmarke, Gertrad the Queene, Counsaile: as Polonius, and his Sonne Laertes, Hamlet cum Aliis.Claud.Though yet of Hamlet our deare brothers deathThe memory bee greene, and that it vs befittedTo beare our hearts in greefe and our whole kingdome,To be contracted in one browe of woe,Yet so farre hath discretion fought with nature,That wee with wisest sorrow thinke on himTogether with remembrance of our selues:Therefore our sometime Sister, now our QueeneTh'imperiall ioyntresse to this warlike stateHaue wee as twere with a defeated ioyWith an auspitious, and a dropping eye,With mirth in funerall, and with dirge in mariage,In equall scale waighing delight and doleTaken to wife: nor haue wee herein bardYour better wisdomes, which haue freely goneWith this affaire along (for all our thankes)Now followes that you know yong Fortinbrasse,Holding a weake supposall of our worthOr thinking by our late deare brothers deathOur state to bee disioynt, and out of frameColegued with this dreame of his aduantageHee hath not faild to pester vs with messageImportingPrince of Denmarke.Importing the surrender of those landsLost by his father, with all bands of lawTo our most valiant brother, so much for him:Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting,Thus much the busines is, we haue here writTo Norway Vncle of young FortenbrasseWho impotent and bedred scarcely hearesOf this his Nephewes purpose; to suppresseHis further gate heerein, in that the leuies,The lists, and full proportions are all madeOut of his subiect, and we heere dispatchYou good Cornelius, and you Valtemand,For bearers of this greeting to old Norway,Giuing to you no further personall powerTo busines with the King, more then the scopeOf these delated articles allow:Farwell, and let your hast commend your duty.Cor. Vo.In that, and all things will we show our duty.King.We doubt it nothing, hartely farwell.And now Laertes whats the newes with you?You told vs of some sute, what ist Laertes?You cannot speake of reason to the DaneAnd lose your voyce; what would'st thou begge Laertes?That shall not be my offer, not thy asking,The head is not more natiue to the heartThe hand more instrumentall to the mouthThen is the throne os Denmarke to thy father,What would'st thou haue Laertes?Lar.My dread Lord.Your leaue and fauour to returne to France,From whence though willingly I came to Denmarke,To show my duty in your Coronation;Yet now I must confesse, that duty doneMy thoughts and wishes bend againe toward France,And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon.King.Haue you your fathers leaue, what saies Polonius?Polo.He hath my Lord wrung from me my slow leaueBy laboursome petition, and at lastVpon his will I seald my hard consent,IThe Tragedy of HamletI doe beseech you giue him leaue to goe.King.Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine,And thy best graces spend it at thy will:But now my CosinHamlet, and my sonne.Ham.A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde.King.How is it that the clowdes still hang on you.Ham.Not so much my Lord, I am too much in the sonne.Queene.Good Hamlet cast thy nighted colour offAnd let thine eye looke like a friend on Denmarke,Doe not for euer with thy vailed lids,Seeke for thy noble Father in the dust,Thou know'st tis common all that liues must dye,Passing through nature to eternitie.Ham.I Maddam, it is common.Quee.If it beeWhy seemes it so perticuler with thee.Ham.Seemes Maddam, nay it is, I know not seemes,Tis not alone my incky cloake could smother,Nor customary sutes of solemne black,Nor windie suspiration of forst breath,No, nor the fruitfull riuer in the eye,Nor the deiected hauior of the visage,Together with all formes, moodes, shapes of griefeThat can deuote me truely, these indeed seeme,For they are actions that a man might play,But I haue that within which passes showe,These but the trappings and the suites of woe.King.Tis sweete and commendable in your nature Hamlet,To giue these mourning duties to your Father,But you must know your father lost a father,That fathcr lost, lost his, and the suruiuer boundIn filliall obligation for some tearmeTo doe obsequious sorrowes, but to perseuerIn obstinate condolement, is a courseOf impious stubbornesse, tis vnmanly griese,It showes a will most incorrect to heauen,A hart vnfortified, or minde impatient,An vnderstanding simple and vnschoold,For what we know must be, and is as commonAsPrince of Denmarke.As any the most vulgar thing to sence,Why should we in our peeuish oppositionTake it to hart, fie, tis a fault to heauen,A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,To reason most absurd, whose common theameIs death of fathers, and who still hath cryedFrom the first course, till he that dyed to dayThis must be so: we pray you throw to earthThis vnpreuailing woe, and thinke of vsAs of a father, for let the world take noteYou are the most imediate to our throne,And with no lesse nobility of loueThen that which dearest father beares his sonne,Doe I impart toward you for your intent,In going back to schoole to Wittenberg,It is most retrogard to our desire,And we beseech you bend you to remaineHeere in the cheare and comfort of our eye,Our chiefest courtier, cosin, and our sonne.Quee.Let not thy mother loose her prayers Hamlet,I pray thee stay with vs, goe not to Wittenberg.Ham.I shall in all my best obay you Madam.King.Why tis a louing and a faire reply,Be as our selfe in Denmarke, Madam come,This gentle and vnforc'd accord of HamletSits smiling to my heart, in grace whereof,No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,But the great Cannon to the clowdes shall tell.And the Kings rowse the heauen shall brute againe,Respeaking earthly thunder; come away.Florish. Exeunt all but Hamlet.Ham.O that this too too sallied flesh would melt,Thaw and resolue it selfe into a dew,Or that the euerlasting had not fixtHis cannon gainst seale slaughter, ò God, God,How wary, stale, flat, and vnprofitableSeeme to me all the vses of this world?Fie on't, ah fie, tis an vnweeded garden,That growes to seed, things ranck and grose in nature,Possesse it meerely that it should come thusCButThe Tragedie of HamletBut two months dead, nay not so much, not two,So excellent a King, that was to thisHyperion to a Satire, so louing to my mother;That he might not beteeme the winds of heauenVisit her face too roughly: heauen and earthMust I remember, why she should hang on himAs if increase of appetite had growneBy what it fed on, and yet within a month,Let me not thinke on't; frailty thy name is womanA little month. Or ere those shooes were oldWith which she followed my poore fathers bodyLike Niobe all teares, why sheO God! a beast that wants discourse of reasonWould haue mourn'd longer, married with my Vncle,My fathers brother, but no more like my fatherThen I to Hercules, within a month,Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous tearesHad left the flushing in her gauled eyesShe married Oh! most wicked speed; to postWith such dexterity to incestious sheetes,It is not, nor it cannot come to good,But breake my heart for I must hold my tongue.Enter Horatio, Marcellus and Bernardo.Hora.Haile to your Lordshippe.Ham.I am glad to see you well; Horatio, or I do forget my (selfe.Hora.the same my Lord; and your poore seruant euer.Ham.Sir my good friend, Ile change that name with you,And what make you from WittenbergHoratio?Marcellus.Mar.My good Lord.Ham.I am very glad to see you, (good euen sir)But what in faith make you from Wittenberg?Hora.A truant disposition good my Lord.Ham.I would not heare your enemie say so,Nor shall you do my eare that violenceTo make it truster of your owne reportAgainst your selfe, I know you are no truant;But what is your affaire in Elsonoure?Weele teach you sor to drinke ere you depart.Hora.Prince of Denmarke.Hora.My Lord, I came to see your fathers funerall.Ham.I prethee doe not mocke me fellow student,I thinke it was to my mothers wedding.Hora.Indeed my Lord it followed hard vpon.Ham.Thrift, thrift, Horatio, the funerall bak't meatesDid coldly furnish forth the marriage tables,Would I had met my dearest foe in HeauenOr euer I had seene that day Horatio.My father me thinkes I see my father.Hora.Where my Lord?Ham.In my mindes eye Horatio.Hora.I saw him once, a was a goodly King.Ham.A was a man take him for all in allI shall not looke vpon his like againe.Hora.My Lord I thinke I saw him yesternight.Ham.Saw, who?Hora.My Lord the King your father.Ham.The King my Father?Hora.Season your admiration for a whileWith an attentiue eare till I may deliuerVpon the witnesse of these gentlemenThis maruaile to you.Ham.For Gods loue let me heare?Hora.Two nights together had these gentlemen Marcellus, and Barnardo, on their watch,In the dead wast and middle of the nightBeene thus incountred, a figure like your fatherArmed at poynt, exactly Cap apeaAppeares before them, and with solemne march,Goes slowe and stately by them; thrice he walktBy their opprest and feare surprised eyes,Within this tronchions length, whil'st they distil'dAlmost to gelly, with the act of feareStand dumbe and speake not to him; this to me,In dreadfull secrecy impart they did,And I with them the third night kept the watch,Whereas they had deliuered both in time,Forme of the thing, each word made true and good,The Apparision comes: I knew your father,C2TheseThe Tragedie of HamletThese hands are not more like.Ham.But where was this?Mar.My Lord vpon the platforme where wee watcht,HamDid you not speake to it?Nora.My Lord I did,But answer made it none, yet once mee thoughtIt lifted vp it head and did addresseIt selfe to motion, like as it would speake:But euen then then the morning Cock crew loude,And at the sound it shruncke in hast awayAnd vanisht from our sight.Ham.Tis very strange.Hora.As I doe liue my honor'd Lord tis trueAnd wee did thinke it writ downe in our duetyTo let you know of it.Ham.Indeede sirs but this troubles me,Hold you the watch to night?All..Wee doe my Lord.Ham.Arm'd say you?All.Arm'd my Lord.Ham.From top to toe?All.My Lord from head to foott.HamThen saw you not his face?Hora.O yes my Lord, hee wore his beauer vp.Ham.What look't hee frowningly?Hora.A countenance more in sorrow then in anger.Ham.Pale or red?Hora.Nay very pale.Ham.And fixt his eyes vpon you?Hora.Most constantly,Ham.I would I had beene there.Hora.It would haue much amaz'd you.Ham.Very like, staid it long?Hora.While one with moderate hast might tell a hundreth,Both.Longer, longer.Hora.Not when I saw't.Ham.His beard was griss'ld, no.Hora.It was as I haue seene it in his lifeA sable siluer'd.Ham.Prince of Denmarke.Ham.I will watch to nightPerchance twill walke againe.Hora.I warn't it willHam.If it assume my noble fathers person,Ile speke to it though hell it selfe should gapeAnd bid mee hold my peace; I pray you allIf you haue hetherto conceald this sightLet it be tenable in your filence still,And what what soeuer els shall hap to night,Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue,I will requite your loues, so fare you well:Vpon the platforme twixt a leauen and twelueIle visit you.AllOur duety to your homor.Exeunt.Ham.Your loues as mine to you, farewell.My fathers spirit (in armes) all is not well,I doubt some foule play, would the night were come,Till then sit still my soule, foule deedes will riseThough all the earth ore‐whelme them to mens eyes,Exit,Enter Laertes and Ophelia his Sister.Laer.My necessaries are inbarckt, farewell,And sister as the winds giue benefitAnd conuay, in assistant do not sleepeBut let me heare from you.Ophe.Doe you doubt that?Laer.For Hamlet and the trifling of his fauour,Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood,A Violet in the youth of primy nature,Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,The perfume and suppliance of a minuteNo more.Ophe,Mo more but so.LaerThinke it no more.For nature cressant does not grow alone,In thewes and bulkes, but as this temple waxesThe inward seruice of the mind souleGrowes wide withall, perhaps hee loues you now,Ane now no soyle nor cautell doth besmerchThe vettue of his will, but you must feare,C3HisThe Tragedy of HamletHis greatnes waid, his will is not his owne.He may not as vnualewed persons doe,Craue for himselfe, for on his choise dependsThe safety and health of this whole state,And therefore must his choise be circmscrib'd,Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that body,Whereof he is the head, then if he saies he loues you,It fits your wisdome so farre to beleeue itAs he in his particuler act and placeMay giue his saying deede, which is no further,Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall.Then way what losse your honor may sustaine,If with too credent eare you list his songsOr loose your heart, or your chast treasure open,To his vnmastred importunity.Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare sister,And keepe you in the reare of your affectionOut of the shot and danger of desire,“The chariest maide is prodigall enoughIf she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone“Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious strokes“The canker gaules the infant of the springToo oft before their buttons be disclos'd,And in the morne and liquid dew of youthContagious blastments are most iminent,Be wary then, best safety lies in feare,Youth to it selfe rebels though none else neare.Ophe,I shall the effect of this good lesson keepe,As watchmen to my heart: but good my brotherDoe not as some vngracious pastors doe,Show me the steepe and thorny way to heauenWhiles a puft, and reckles libertine,Himselfe the primrose path of dalience treads.And reakes not his owne reed.Enter Polonius.Laer.O feare me not,I stay too long, but heere my father comesA double blessing, is a double grace,Occasion smiles vpon a second leaue.Pol.Yet here Laertes? a bord, a bord for shame,ThePrince of Denmarke.The wind sits in the shoulder of your saile,And you are staied for, there my blessing with thee,And these few precepts in thy memoryLooke thou character, giue thy thoughts no tongue,Nor any vnproportion'd thought his act,Be thou familier, but by no meanes vulgar,Those friends thou hast and their adoption tried,Grapple them vnto thy soule with hoopes of steele,But do not dull thy palme with entertainementOf each new hatcht vnfledgd courage; bewareOs entrance to a quarrell, but beeing in,Bear't that th'opposer may beware of thee.Giue euery man thy eare, but few thy voyce,Take each mans censure, but reserue thy iudgement,Costly thy habite as thy purse can buy,But not exprest in fancy; rich not gaudy,For the apparrell oft proclaimes the man:And they in France of the best ranck and station,Ar of a most select and generous, cheefe in that:Neither a borrower nor a lender boy,For loue oft looses both it selfe, and friend,And borrowing dulleth the edge of husbandry:This aboue all, to thine owne selfe be trueAnd it must follow as the night the dayThou canst not then bee false to any man:Farewell, my blessing season this in thee.Laer.Most humbly do I take my leaue my Lord.Pol.The time inuests you, goe, your seruants tend,Laer.Farewell Ophelia, and remember wellWhat I haue said to you.Ophe⸗Tis in my memory locktAnd you your selfe shall keepe the key of it.Laer.FarewellExit. Laertes.Pol.what ist Ophelia hee hath said to you?Ophe.So please you, fomething touching the Lord Hamlet.Pol.Marry well bethoughtTis told me hee hath very oft of lateGiuen priuate time to you, and you your selfeHaue of your audience beene most free and bountios,IfThe Tragedy of HamletIf it be so, as so tis put on me,And that in way of caution, I must tell you,You doe not vnderstand your selfe so cleerelyAs it behooues my daughter and your honor,What is betweene you giue me vp the truth.Ophe.He hath my Lord of late made many tendersOf his affection to me.Pol.Affection, puh, you speake like a greene girle,Vnsifted in such perrilous circumstance,Doe you belieue his tenders, as you call them?Ophe.I doe not know my Lord what I should thinke.Pol.Marry I will teach you, thinke your selfe a babie,That you haue tane these tenders for true pay,Which are not sterling: tender your selfe more dearelyOr (not to crack the winde of the poore phrase)Wrong it thus, youle tender me a foole.Ophe.My Lord he hath importun'd me with loueIn honorable fashion.Pol.I, fashion you may call it, go to, go to.Ophe.And hath giuen countenance to his speechMy Lord, with almost all the holy vowes of heauen.Pol.I, springs to catch wood‐cocks, I doe knowWhen the blood burnes, how prodigall the souleLends the tongue vowes, these blazes daughterGiuing more light then heate, extinct in bothEuen in their promise, as it is a makingYou must not tak't for fire: from this timeBe some‐thing scanter of your maiden presenceSet your intreatments at a higher rateThen a command to parle; for Lord Hamlet,Belieue so much in him, that he is young,And with a larger teder may he walkeThen may be giuen you: in few Ophelia,Doe not belieue his vowes, for they are brokersNot of that die which their inuestments showBut meere implorators of vnholy suites,Breathing like sanctified and pious bondsThe better to beguile: this is for all,I would not in plaine termes from this time foorthHauePrince of Denmarke.Haue you so slaunder any moments leasureAs to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet,Looke too't I charge you, come your wayes.Ophe.I shall obey my Lord.Exeunt.Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.Ham.The ayre bites shroudly, it is very colde.Hora.It is nipping, and an eager ayre.Ham.What hour now?Hora.I thinke it lackes of twelue.Mar.No, it is strookeHor.Indeede; I heard it not, it then drawes neere the season.Wherein the spirit held his wont to walkeA Florish of trum­ pets and 2. peeces goes off.What does this meane my Lord?Ham.The King doth walke to night and takes his rowse.Keepes wassell and the swaggring vp‐spring reeles:And as he draines his drafts of Rennish downe,The kettle drumme and trumpet, thus bray outThe triumph of his pledge.Hora.Is it a custome?Ham.I marry ist,But to my mind, though I am natiue heereAnd to the manner borne, it is a customeMore honourd in the breach, then the obseruance.This heauy‐headed reuelle East and WestMakes vs tradu'cd and taxed of other Nations,They clip vs drunkards and with swinish phraseSoyle our addition, and indeed it takesFrom our atchieuements, though perform'd at heightThe pith and marow of our attribute,So oft it chances in particuler men,That for some vitious mole of nature in themAs in their birth wherein they are not guilty,(Sinc nature cannot choose his origen)By their ore‐grow'th of some complexionOft breaking downe the Pales and Forts of reason,Or by some habite that too much ore‐leauensThe forme of plausiue manners, that these menCarrying I say the stamp of one defectD.BeingThe Tragedy of HamletBeing Natures liuery, or Fortunes starre,His Vertues els be they as pure as grace.As infinit as man may vndergoe,Shall in the generall censure take corruptionFrom that particular fault: the dram of easeDoth all the noble substance of a doubtTo his owne scanall,Enter Ghost.Hora.Looke my Lord it comes.Ham.Angels and Ministers of grace defend vs!Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd,Bring with thee ayres from heauen, or blasts from hell,Be thy intents wicked or charitable,Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,That I will speake to thee, Ile call thee Hamlet,King, father, royall Dane, ò answere mee,Let mee not burst in ignorance, but tellWhy thy Canoniz'd bones hearsed in deathHaue burst their cerements? why the Sepulcher,Wherein wee saw thee quietly interr'dHath op't his ponderous and marble iawes,To cast thee vp againe? what may this meaneThat thou dead corse, againe in compleat steeleReuisites thus the glimses of the Moone,Making night hideous, and wee fooles of natureSo horridly to shake our dispositionWith thoughtes beyond the reaches of our soules,Say why is this, wherefore, what should wee doe?Beckons.Hora.It beckons you to goe away with itAs if it some impartment did desireTo you alone.Mar.Looke with what curteous actionIt waues you to a more remooued ground,But doe not goe with it.Hora.No, by no meanes.Ham.It will not speake, then I will follow it.Hora.Doe not my Lord.Ham.Why? what should bee the feare,I doe not set my life at a pinnes fee,AndPrince of Denmarke.And for my soule, what can it doe to thatBeing a thing immortall as it selfe;It waues me forth againe, Ile follow it.Hora.What if it tempt you towards the flood my Lord,Or to the dreadfull somnet of the cleefeThat bettels ore his base into the sea,And there assume some other horrible formeWhich might depriue your soueraignty of reason,And draw you into madnesse, thinke of it,The very place puts toyes of desperationWithout more motiue, into euery braineThat lookes so many fadoms to the seaAnd heares it rore beneath.Ham.It waues me still,Goe on, Ile follow thee.Mar.You shall not goe my Lord,Ham,Hold of your hands.Hora.Be rul'd, you shall not goe.Ham.My fate cries outAnd makes each petty artyre in this bodyAs hardy as the Nemean Lyons nerue;Still am I cald, vnhand me GentlemenBy heauen Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me,I say away, goe one, Ile follow thee.Exit Ghost and Hamlet.Hor.He waxes desperate with imagination.Mar.Lets follow, tis not fit thus to obey him.Hora.Haue after, to what issue will this come?Mar.Something is rotten in the state of Denmarke.Hora.Heauen will direct it.Mar.Nay lets follow him.Exeunt,Enter Ghost and Hamlet.Ham.Whether wilt thou leade me, speake, Ile goe no further.Ghost.Marke me.Ham.I will.Ghost.My houre is almost comeWhen I to sulphrous and tormenting flamesMust render vp my selfe.Ham.Alasse poore Ghost,D2GhostThe Tragedy of HamletGhost.Pitty me not, but lend thy serious hearing to what I shall vnfold.Ham.Speake I am bound to here,Ghost.So art thou to reuenge, when thou shalt heare.Ham.What?Ghost.I am thy fathers spirit,Doomd for a certaine tearme to walke the night,And for the day confind to fast in fires,Till the foule crimes done in my daies of natureAre burnt and purg'd away: but that I am forbidTo tell the secrets of my prison‐house,I could a tale vnfolde whose lightest wordWould harrow vp thy soule, freeze thy young blood,Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,Thy knotted and combined locks to part,And each particular haire to stand an end,Like quils vpon the fearefull Porpentine:But this eternall blazon must not beTo eares of flesh and blood, list, list, O list,If thou did'st euer thy deare father loue.Ham.O God.Ghost.Reuenge his foule, and most vnnaturall murther.Ham.Murther.Ghost.Murther most foule, as in the best it is,But this most foule, strange and vnnaturall.Ham.Hast me to know't, that I with wings as swift,As meditation, or the thoughts of LoueMay sweepe to my reuenge.GhostI find thee apt,And duller shouldest thou be then the fat weedeThat rootes it selfe in ease on Lethe wharffe,Would'st thou not sturre in this; now Hamlet heare,Tis giuen out, that sleeping in my Orchard,A Serpent stung me, so the whole eare of DenmarkeIs by a forged processe of my deathRanckely abused: but know thou noble Youth,The Serpent that did sting thy fathers lifeNow weares his Crowne.Ham.O my prophetike soule! my Vncle:GhostGhost.I that incestuous, that adulterate beast,With witchraft of his wits, with trayterous gifts,O wicked wit, and giftes that haue the powerSo to seduce; wonne to his shamfull lustThe will of my most seeming vertuous Queene;O Hamlet, what falling off was thereFtom me whose loue was of that dignityThat it went hand in hand, euen with the vowI made to her in marriage, and to declineVpon a wretch whose natutall gifts were poore,To those of mine; but vertue as it neuer will be mooued,Though lewdnesse court it in a shape of heauenSo but though to a radiant Angle linckt.Will sort it selfe in a celestiall bedAnd pray on garbage.But soft, me thinkes I scent the morning ayre,Briefe let me be; sleeping within my Orchard,My custome alwayes of the afternoone,Vpon my secure houre, thy Vncle stoleWith iuyce of cursed Hebona in a viall,And in the porches of my eares did poure,The leaprous distilment, whose effectHolds such an enmity with blood of man,That swift as quicksiluer it courses throughThe naturall gates and allies of the body,And with a sodaine vigour it doth possesseAnd curde like eager droppings into milke,The thin and wholsome blood; so did it mine,And a most instant tetter barkt aboutMost Lazerlike with vile and lothsome crustAll my smooth body.Thus was I sleeping by a brothers hand,Of life, of Crowne, of Queene at once dispatcht,Cut off euen in the blossomes of my sinne,Vnnuzled, disappointed, vn‐anueld,No reckning made, but sent to my accountWith all my imperfections on my head,O horrible, O horrible, most horrible.If thou hast nature in thee beare it not,D3LetLet not the royall bed of Denmarke beA couch for luxury and damned incest.But how someuer thou pursues this act,Tain't not thy minde, nor let thy soule contriueAgainst thy mother ought, leaue her to heauen,And to those thornes that in her bosome lodgeTo pricke and sting her: fare thee well at once,The Gloworme shewes the matine to be neereAnd gins to pale his vneffectuall fire,Adiew, adiew, adiew, remember me.Ham.O all you host of heauen! O earth! what else,And shall I coupple hell, O fie! hold, my heart,And you my sinnowes; grow not instant old,But beare me swiftly vp; remember thee,I thou poore Ghost whiles memory holds a seateIn this distracted globe, remember thee,Yea, from the table of my memoryIle wipe away all triuiall fond records,All sawe of bookes, all formes, all pressures pastThat youth and obseruation coppied there,And thy commandement all alone shall liue,Within the booke and volume of my braineVnmixt with baser matter, yes by heauen.O most prenicious woman.O' villaine, villaine, smiling damned villaine,My tables, meet it is I set it downeLThat one may smile, and smile, and be a villaine.At least I am sure it may be so in Denmarke.So Vncle, there you are, now to my word.It is adew, adew, remember me.I haue sworn't.Enter Horatio, and Marcellus.Hora.My Lord, my Lord.Mar.Lord Hamlet.Hora.Heauens secure him.Ham.So be it.Mar.Illo, ho, ho, my Lord.Ham.Hillo, ho, ho, boy come, and come.Mar.Prince of Denmarke.Mar.How i'st my noble Lord?Hora.O, wonderfull!Hor.Good my Lord tell it.Ham.No, you will reueale it.Hora.Not I my Lord by heauen.Mar.Nor I my Lord.Ham.How say you then, would hart of man once thinke it,But you'le be secret.Both.I by heauen.Ham.There's neuer a villaine,Dwelling in all DenmarkeBut hee's an arrant knaue.Hora.There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the grauTo tell vs this.Ham.Why right, you are in the right,And so without more circumstance at all,I hold it fit that we shake hands and part,You, as your businesse and desire shall point you,For euery man hath businesse and desireSuch as it is, and for my owne poore partI will goe pray.Hora.These are but wilde and whurling words my LoHam.I am sorry they offend you heartily,Yes faith hartily.Hora.There's no offence my LordHam.Yes by Saint Patrick but there is Horatio,And much offence to, touching this vision heere,It is an honest Ghost, that let me tell you,For your desire to know what is betweene vs,Ore‐maister 't as you may, and now good friends,As you are friends, schollers, and souldiers,Giue me one poore request.Hora.What i'st my Lord, we will.Ham.Neuer make knowne what you haue seene to night.Both.My Lord we will not.Ham.Nay but swear't.Hora.In faith my Lord not I.Mar.Nor I my Lord in faith.Ham.The Tragedy of HamletHam.Vppon my sword.Mar.Wee haue sworne my Lord already.Ham.Indeed vppon my sword, indeed.Ghost cryes vnder the Stage.Ghost.Sweare.Ham.Ha, ha, boy, say'st thou so, art thou there true penny?Come on, you heare this fellow in the Sellerige,Consent to sweare.Hora.Propose the oath my Lord.Ham.Neuer to speake of this that you haue seene,Sweare by my sword.Ghost.Sweare,Hamhic, & vbique, then weele shift our ground:Come hether GentlemenAnd lay your hands againe vpon my sword,Sweare by my swordNeuer to speake of this that you haue heard.Ghost.Sweare by his sword.Ham.Well said old Mole, canst worke it'h earth fo fast,A worthy Pioner once more remooue good friends.Hora.O day and night, but this is wondrous strange.Ham.And therefore as a stranger giue it welcome,There are more thinges in heauen and earth HoratioThen are dream't of in your Philosophy: but comeHeere as before, neuer so helpe you mercy,(How strange or odde so mere I beare my selfe,As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet,To put an Antike disposition onThat you at such timesseeing mee, neuer shallWith armes incombred thus, or this head shake,Or by pronouncing of some doubtfull phase,As, well, well wee know, or wee could and if wee would,Or if wee list to speake, or there be and if they might,Or such ambiguous giuing out, to note)That you knowe ought of mee, this do sweare,So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you.Ghost.Sweare.Ham.Rest, rest perturbed spirit: so Gentlemen,With all my loue I doe commend me to you,Prince of Denmarke.And what so poore a man as Hamlet is,May doe t'expresse his loue and frending to youGod willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in together,And still your fingers on your lips I pray,The time is out of ioynt. O cursed spight!That euer I was borne to set it right.Nay come, lets goe together.Exeunt.Enter old Polonius, with his man or two.Pol.Giue him this mony, and these two notes Reynaldo.Rey.I will my Lord.Pol.You shall doe maruelous wisely good Reynaldo.Before you visite him, to make inquire,Of his behauiour.Rey.My Lord, I did intend it.Pol.Mary well said, very well said; looke you sir,Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris.And how, and who, what meanes, and where they keepeWhat company, at what expence, and finding,By this encompasment and drift of questionThat they doe know my sonne, come you more neererThen your perticuler demaunds will tuch it,Take you as t'were some distant knowledge of him,As thus, I know his father, and his friends,And in part him, doe you marke this Reynaldo?Rey.I, very well my Lord.Pol,And in part him, but you may say, not well,But y'ft be he I meane, hee' s very wilde,Addicted so and so, and there put on himWhat forgeries you please, marry none so ranckAs may dishonour him, take heed of that,But sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips,As are companions noted and most knowneTo youth and libertie.Rey.As gaming my Lord.Pol.I, or drinking, fencing, swearing,Quarrelling, drabbing, you may goe so farre.Rey.My Lord, that would dishonour him.Pol.Fayh as you may season it in the charge.EYouThe Tragedie of HamletYou must not put another scandall on him,That he is open to incontinency,That's not my meaning, but breath his faults so quentlyThat they may seeme the taints of liberty,The flash and out‐beake of a fiery mind,A sauagenes in vnreclamed blood,Of generall assault.Rey.But my good Lord.Pol.Wherefor should you doe this?Rey.I my Lord, I would know that.Pol.Marry sir, heer's my drift,And I beleeue it is a fetch of wit,You laying these slight sullies on my sonneAs t'were a thing a little soyld with working,Marke you, your party in conuerse, him you would soundHauing euer seene in the prenominat crimesThe youth you breath of guilty, be assur'dHe closes with you in this cosequence,Good sir, (or so,) or friend, or Gentleman,According to the phrase, or the additionOf man and country.Rey.Very good my Lord.Pol.And then sir doos a this, a doos: what was I about to say?By the masse I was about to say something,Where did I leaue?ReyAt closes in the consequence.Pol.At closes in the consequence, I marry,He closes thus, I know the GentlemanI saw him yesterday, or th'other day.Or then, or then, with such or such, and as you say,There was a gaming there, or tooke in's rowse,There falling out at Tennis, or perchanceI saw him enter such or such a house of sale,Videlizet, a brothell, or so foorth, see you now,Your bait of falshood: take this carpe of truth,And thus doe we of wisdome, and of reach,With windlesses: and with assaies of bias,By indirects find directions out,So by my former lecture and aduiseShallPrince of Denmarke.Shall you my sonne; you haue me, haue you not?Rey.My Lord, I haue.Pol.God buy yee, far yee well.Rey.Good my Lord.Pol.Obserue his inclination in your selfe.Rey.I shall my Lord,Pol.And let him ply his musique.Rey.Well my Lord.Exit Rey.Enter Ophelia.Polo.Farwell. How now Ophelia, whats the matter?Ophe.O my Lord, my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted,Polo.With what i'th name of God?Ophe.My Lord, as I was sowing in my closset,Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd,No hat vpon his head, his stockins fouled,Vngartred, and downe gyred to his ankle,Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,And with a looke so pittious in purportAs if he had beene loosed out of hellTo speake of horrors, he comes before me.Polo.Mad for thy loue?Ophe.My Lord I do not know,But truly I doe feare it.Polo,What said he?Ophe.He tooke me by the wrist, and held me hard,Then goes he to the length of all his arme,And with his other hand thus ore his brow,He falls to such perusall of my faceAs a would draw it; long stayd he so,At last, a little shaking of mine arme,And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe,He raised a sigh so pittious and profound,As it did seeme to shatter all his bulke,And end his being; that done, he lets me go,And with his head ouer his shoulders turn'dHe seem'd to find his way without his eyes,For out a doores he went without their helps,And to the last bended their light on me.E2Polo,The Tragedie of HamletPol.Come, goe with me, I will goe seeke the King,ObliqueThis is the very extacy of loue,Whose violent property forgoes it selfe,And leads the will to desperat vndertakingsAs oft as any passions vnder heauenThat dooes afflict our natures: I am sorry,What, haue you giuen him any hard words of late?Ophe.No my good Lord, but as you did commaundI did repell his letters: and deniedHis accesse to me.Pol.That hath made him mad.I am sorry, that with better heede and iudgementI had not coted him, I fear'd he did but trifleAnd meant to wracke thee, but beshrow my Ielousie:By heauen it is as proper to our ageTo cast beyond our selues in our opinions,As it is common for the younger sortTo lack discretion; come, goe we to the King,This must be knowne, which beeing kept close, might moueMore griefe to hide, then hate to vtter loue,Come.Exeunt.Florish. Enter King and Queene, Rosencraus and Guyldensterne.King.Welcome deere Rosencraus and Guyldensterne,Moreouer, that we much did long to see you,The need we haue to vse you did prouokeOur hasty sending, something haue you heardOf Hamlets transformation, so call it,Sith nor th'exterior, nor the inward manResembles that it was, what it should be,More then his fathers death, that thus hath put him,So much from the' vnderstanding of himselfeI cannot dreame of: I entreat you both,That beeing of so young daies brought vp with him,And sith so neighbored to his youth and haur,That you voutsafe your rest heere in our CourtSome little time, so by your companiesTo draw him on to pleasures, and to gatherSoPrince of Denmarke.So much as from occasion you may gleane,Whether ought to vs vnkowne afflicts him thus,That opend lies within our remedy.QueeGood gentlemen, he hath much talkt of you,And sre I am, two men there are not liuing,To whome he more adheres, if it will please youTo shew vs so much gentry and good will,As to extend your time with vs a while,For the supply and profit of our hope,Your visitaion shall receiue such thankesAs fits a Kings remembrance.Ros.Both your MaiestiesMight by the soueraigne power you haue of vs,Put your dread pleasures more into commaundThen to intreaty.Guyl.But we both obey,And here giue vp our selues in the full bent,To lay our seruice freely at your feeteKing.Thankes Rosencraus, and gentle Guyldensterne,Quee.Thankes Guyldensterne, and gentle Roscencraus.And I beseech you instantly to visiteMy too much changed sonne: goe some of youAnd bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.Guyl.Heauens makur presence and our practicesPleasant and helpfull to him.Quee.I Amen.Exeunt Ros. and Guyld.Enter Polonius.Pol.Th'embassadors srom Norway my good Lord,Are ioyfully returnd.King,Thou still hast beene the father of good newes.Pol.Haue I my Lord? I assure my good LiegeI hold my duty as I hold my soule.Both to my God, and to my gracious King;And I doe thinke, or else this braine of mineHunts not the trayle of policie so sureAs it hath vsd to doe, that I haue foundThe very cause of Hamlets lunacy,King.O speake of that, that do I long to heare.E3Pol.The Tragedy of HamletPolo,Giue first admittance to th'embassadors,My newes shall be the frute to that great feast,King.Thy selfe doe grace to them, and bring them in.He tells me my decree: Gertrud he hath foundThe head and source of all your sonnes distemper.Quee.I doubt it is no other but the maine,His fathers death, and our hasty marriage.Enter Embassadors.King.Well, we shall sift him, welcome my good friends,Say Voltemand, what from our brother Norway?Volte.Most faire returne of greetings and desires;Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresseHis Nephews leuies, which to him appeardTo be a preparation 'gainst the Pollacke,But better lookt into, he truly foundIt was against your highnesse, whereat greeu'dThat so his sicknesse, age, and impotenceWas falsely borne in hand, sends out arrestsOn Fortenbrasse, which he in breefe obeyes,Receiues rebuke from Norway, and in fine,Makes vow before his Vncle, neuer moreTo giue th'assay of Armes against your Maiesty:Whereon old Norway ouercome with ioy,Giues him threescore thousand crownes in anuall fee,And his commission to imploy those souldiers,So leuied (as before) against the Pollacke,With an entreaty herein further shone,That it might please you to giue quiet passeThrough your dominions for this enterpriseOn such regards of safety and allowanceAs therein are set downe.King.It likes vs well,And at our more considered time, wee'le read,Answer, and thinke vpon this busines:Meane time, we thanke you for your well tooke labour,Goe to your rest, at night weele feast together,Most welcome home,Exeunt Embassadors.Pol.This busines is well ended,MyPrince of Denmarke.My Liege and Maddam, to expostulateWhat maiesty should be, what duety is,Why day is day, night night, and time is time,Were nothing but to wast night, day, and time,Therefore breuity is the soule of wit,And tediousnes the limmes and outward florishes:I will be breefe your noble sonne is mad:Mad call I it, for to define true madnes,What ist but to be nothing else but mad?But let that goe.Quee.More matter with lesse art.Pol.Maddam, I sweare I vse no art at all,That hee's mad tis true, tis true, tis pitty,And pitty tis, tis true, a foolish figure,But farewell it, for I will vse no art,Mad let vs grant him then, and now remainesThat wee find out the cause of this effect,Or rather say the cause of this defectFor this effect defectiue comes by cause:Thus it remaines and the remainder thusPerpend,I haue a daughter, haue while she is mine,Who in her duety and obedience, marke,Hath giuen me this, now gather and surmise,

To the Celestiall and my soules Idol, the most beau­ tifiedOphelia, that's an ill phrase, a vile phrase, beautified is a vile phrase, but you shall heare: thus in her excellent white bosome, these &c.

Quee.Came this from Hamlet to her?Pol.Good Maddam stay awhile, I will be faithfull,Doubt thou the starres are fire,Letter.Doubt that the Sunne doth mooue,Doubt truth to be a lyer,But neuer doubt I loue.

O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers, I haue not art to rec­ ken my groanes, but that I loue thee best, Oh most best be­ leeue it! adew. Thine euermore most deare Lady, whilst this machine is to him. (Hamlet.

Pol.This in obedience hath my daughter shown me, And more about hath his solicitingsAsThe Tragedy of HamletAs they fell out by time, by meanes, and place,All giuen to mine eare.King.But how hath she receiu'd his loue?Pol.What doe you thinke of me?King.As of a man faithfull and honorable.Pol.I would faine proue so, but what might you thinkeWhen I had seene this hot loue on the wing?As I perceiu'd it (I must tell you that)Before my Daughter told me, what might you,Or my deare Maiesty your Queene heere thinke,If I had plaid the Deske, or Table booke,Or giuen my heart a working mute and dumbe,Or lookt vppon this loue with idle sight,What might you thinke? no, I went round to worke,And my yong Mistrisse this I did bespeake,Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy starre,This must not bee: and then I prescripts gaue herThat she should locke her selfe from his resort,Admit no messengers, receiue no tokens.Which done she tooke the fruites of my aduise,And hee repel'd. a short tale to make,Fell into a sadnes, then into a fast,Thence to a watch, thence into a weakenesse,Thence to lightnes, and by this declension,Into the madnes wherein now hee raues,And all wee mourne for.King.Doe you thinke this?Quee.It may bee very like.Pol.Hath there beene such a time, I would faine know that,That I haue positiuely said, tis so,When it prou'd otherwise?King.Not that I know.Pol.Take this, from this, if this be otherwise;If circumstances leade mee, I will findWhere truth is hid, though it were hid indeedeWithin the Center.King.How may wee try it forther?Pol.You know sometimes hee walkes foure houres togetherHeere in the Lobby.Quee.Prince of Denmarke.Quee.Soe he does indeede.Pol.At such a time; ile loose my daughter to him,Be you and I behind an Arras then,Marke the encounter, if he loue her not,And bee not from his reason falne thereonLet me be no assistant for a stateBut keepe a farme and carters.King.Wee will trye it.Enter Hamlet.Quee.But looke where sadly the poore wretch comes readingPol.Away, I doe beseech you both away.Exit King and Quee.Ile bord him presently, oh giue me leaue,How does my good Lord Hamlet?Ham.Well, God a mercy.Pol.Doe you know me my Lord?Ham.Excellent well, you are a Fishmonger,Pol.Not I my Lord.Ham.Then I would you were so honest a man.Pol.Honest my Lord.Ham.I sir to be honest as this world goes,Is to be one man pickt out of tenne thousand,Pol.That's very true my Lord.Ham.

For if the sunne breed maggots in a dead dogge, being a good kissing carrion. Haue you a daughter?

How say you by that, still harping on my daughter, yet he knew me not at first, a sayd I was a Fishmonger, a is farre gone, and truely in my youth, I suffred much extremity for loue, very neere this. Ile speake to him againe. What doe you read my Lord.

Slanders sir; for the satericall rogue saies here, that old men haue gray beards, that their faces are wrinckled, their eyes purging thick Amber, & plum‐tree gum, & that they haue a plen­ FtifullThe Tragedy of Hamlet tifull lacke of wit, together with most weake hams, all which sir though I most powerfully and potently belieue, yet I hold it not honesty to haue it thus set downe, for your sele sir shall grow old as I am; if like a Crab you could goe backeward.

Pol.

Though this be madnesse, yet there is method in't, wil you walke our of the ayre my Lord?

Ham.Into my graue.Polo.

Indeede that's out of the ayre; how pregnant sometimes his replies are, a happines that often madnes hits on, which reason and sanctity could not so prosperously be dliuered of. I will leaue him and my daughter. My Lord, I wil take my leaue of you.

Ham.

You cannot take from me any thing that I will not more willingly part withall: except my life, except my life, except my life.Enter Guildersterne, and Rosoncraus.

Polo,Fare you well my Lord.Ham.These tedious old fooles.Polo,You goe to seeke the Lord Hamlet, there he is.Ros.God saue you sir.Guyl.My honor'd Lord.Ros.My most deere Lord.Ham.My exelent good friends, how dost thou Guildersterne?A Rosencraus, good lads how doe you both?Ros.As the indifferent children of the earth.Guyl.Happy, in that we are not euer happy on Fortunes lap,We are not the very button.Ham.Nor the soles of her shooe.Ros.Neither my Lord.Ham.Then you liue about her wast, or in the middle of her fa­ (uors.Guyl,Faith her priuates we.Ha.In the secret parts of fortune, oh most true, she is a strumpetWhat newes?Ros.None my Lord, but the worlds growne honest.Ham.Then is Doomes day neere, but your newes is not true;But in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsonoure?Ros.To visit you my Lord, no other occasion.Ham.

Begger that I am, I am euer poore in thankes, but I thank you, and sure deare friends, my thankes are too deare a halfpeny: were you not sent for? is it your owne inclining? is it a free visita­ tion? come, come, deale iustly with me, come, come, nay speake.

Guy.What should we say my Lord?Ham.Prince of Denmarke.Ham.

Any thing but to'th purpose; you were sent for, and there is a kind of confession in your lookes, which your modestyes haue not craft enough to cullour, I know the good King and Queene haue sent for you.

Ros.To what end my Lord?Ham.

That you must teach me: but let me coniure you, by the rights of our fellowshippe, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our euer preserued loue; and by what more deare a better proposer can charge you withall, bee euen and direct with mee whether you were sent for or no­

Ros.What say you?HamNay then I haue an eye of you, if you loue me hold not off.GuylMy Lord wee were sent for.Ham.

I will tell you why so shall, my anticipation preuent your discouery, and your secrecie to the King and Queene moult no fea­ ther, I haue of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgon all custome of exercises, and indeede it goes soe heauily with my disposition, that this goodly frame the earth, seemes to mee a sterill promontorie, this most excellent Canopie the ayre, looke you, this braue ore‐hanged firmament, this maiesticall roofe fret­ ted with golden fire, why it appearth nothing to mee but a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours. What peece of worke is a man, how noble in reason, how infinit in faculties, in forme and moouing, how expresse and admirable in action, how like an An­ gell in apprehension, how like a God: the beauty of the world; the parragon of Annimales, and yet to mee, what is this Quintessence of dust? man delights not mee nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seeme to say so.

Ros.My Lord there was no such stuffe in my thoughts.Ham.Why did yee laugh then, when I said man delights not me.Ros.

To thinke my Lord if you delight not in man, what Lenton entertainement the players shal receiue from you, wee coted them on the way, and hether are the coming to offer you seruice.

Ham.

He that playes the King shal be welcome, his Maiesty shal haue tribute on mee, the aduenterous Knight shal vse his foyle and target, the louer shal not sing gratis, the humorous man shal end his part in peace and the Lady shal say her mind freely: or the blanke verse shal hault for't. What players are they?

Ros.Euen those you were wont to take such delight in, the Trage­ dians of th Citty.F2Ham.The Tragedie of HamletHam.How chances it the trauaile? their residence both in repu­ tation and profit was better both wayes.Ros.I thinke their inhibition, comes by the meanes of the late innouation.Ham.

Do the hold the same estimation they did when I was in the City? are they so followed?

Ros.No indeede are they not.Ham.

It is not very strange, for my Vncle is King of Denmarke & those that would make mouths at him while my father liued, giue twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred duckets a peece, for his Pic­ ture in little: s'bloud there is something in this more then na­ turall, if Philosophy could find it out.A Florish.

Guyl.There are the playersHam.

Gentlemen you are welcome to Elsonoure, your hands, come then th'apportenance of welcome is fashion and ceremo­ nie; let mee comply with you in this garb: let my extent to the players, which I tell you must showe fayrely outwards, should more appeare like entertainement then yours? you are welcome: but my Vncle‐father, and Aunt‐mother, are deceaued.

Guyl.In what my deare Lord.Ham.I am but mad North North west; when the wind is Sou­ therly, I know a Hauke, from a hand‐saw.Enter Polonius.Pol.Well be with you Gentlemen.Ham.

Hark you Guyldensterne, & you to, are each eare a hearer, that great baby as you see is not yet out of his swadling clouts.

Ros.

Happily he is the second time come to them, for they say an old man is twice a child.

Ham.

I will prophecy that he comes to tell me of the players; marke it, you say right sir a Monday morning t'was then indeed.

Pol.My Lord I haue newes to tell you.Ham.My Lord I haue newes to tell you: when Rossius was an Actor in Rome.Pol.The Actors are come hether my Lord.Ham.Buz, buz,Pol,Vppon my honor.Ham.Then came each Actor on his Asse.Pol.

The best actors in the world, either for Tragedy, Comedy, History, Pastorall, Pastorall‐Comicall, Historical‐Pastorall, seeme indeuidable.Prince of Denmarke. indeuidable, or Poem vnlimited. Seneca cannot bee too heauy, nor Plautus too light for the lawe of writ, and the liberty: these are the onely men.

Ham.O Ieptha Iudge of Israell, what a treasure hadst thou?Pol.What a treasure had he my Lord?Ham.Why one faire daughter and no more, the which hee lo­ ued passing well.Pol.Still on my daughter.Ham.Am I not i'th right old Ieptha?Pol.What followes then my Lord?Ham.

Why as by lot God wot, and then you know it came to passe, as most like it was; the first rowe of the pious chanson will show you more, for looke where my abridgment comes.

Enter the Players.Ham.

You are welcome maisters, welcome all, I am glad to see thee well, welcome good friends, oh old friend, why thy face is valanc'd since I saw thee last, com'st thou to beard me in DēmarkDenmark? what my young lady and Mistris, by lady your ladishippe is nerer to heauen, then when I saw you last by the altitude of a chopine, pray God your voyce like a peece of vncurrant gold, bee not crackt within the ring: maisters you are all welcome, weele ento't like friendly Faukners, flie at any thing wee see, weele haue a speech straite, come giue vs a taste of your quality, come a passionate speech.

Player.What speech my good lord?Ham.

I heard thee speake me a speech once, but it was neuer ac­ ted, or if it was, not aboue once, for the play I remember pleasd not the million, t'was cauiary to the general, but it was as I recei­ ued it & others, whose iudgments in such matters cried in the top of mine, an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set downe with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one sayd there were no sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory, nor no matter in the phrase that might indite the author of affection, but cald it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, & by very much, more handsome then fine: one speech in't I chiefly loued, t'was Æneas talke to Dido, & there about of it especially when he speakes of Priams slaughter, if it liue in your memoy begin at this line, let me see, let me see, the rugged Pyrhus like Th'ircanian F3beast,The Tragedie of Hamlet Beast, tis not it begins with Pyrrhus. The rugged Pir rhus, hee whose sable armes,

Blacke as his purpose did the night resemble,When hee lay couched in th'ominous horse,Hath now this dread and black complection smeard,With heraldy more dismall head to foote,Now is hee totall Gules, horridly tricktWith blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sonnes,Bak'd and embasted with the parching streetesThan lend a tirranous and a damned lightTo their Lords murther, rosted in wrath and fire,And thus ore‐cised with coagulate gore,With eyes like Carbunckles, the hellish PyrrhusOld grandsire Priam seekes; so proceed you.Pol.Foregod my Lord well spoken, with good accent and (good discretion.Play.Anon he finds himStriking too short at Greekes, his anticke swordRebellious to his arme, lies where it fals,Repugnant to command; vnequall matcht,Pirrhus at Priam driues, in rage strikes wide,But with the whiffe and wind of his fell sword,Th'vnnerued father falls:Seeming to feele this blow, with flaming topStoopes to his base; and with a hiddious crashTakes prisoner Pirrhus eare, for lo his swordWhich was declining on the milkie headOf reuerent Priam, seem'd i'th ayre to stick,XSo as a painted tirant Pirrhus stoodLike a newtrall to his will and matter,Did nothing:But as wee often see against some storme,A silence in the heauens, the racke stand still,The bould winds speechlesse, and the orbe beloweAs hush as death, anone the dreadfull thunderDoth rend the region, so after pirrhus pause,A rowsed vengeance sets him new a worke,And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall,On Marses Armor forg'd for proofe eterne,With lesse remorse then Pirrhus bleeding swordNow falls on Priam.OutPrince of Denmarke.Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! all you gods,In generall sinod take away her power,Breake all the spokes, and folles from her wheele,And boule the round naue downe the hill of heauenAs lowe as to the fiends.Polo.This is too long.Ha.

It shal to the barbers with your beard; prethee say on, he's for a Iig, or a tale of bawdry, or he sleepes, say on, come to Hecuba.

Play.But who, a woe, had seene the mobled Queene,Ham.The mobled Queene.Polo,That's good.Play.Runne barefoote vp and downe, threatning the flamesWith Bison rhume, a clout vpon that headWhere late the Diadem stood, and for a robe,About her lanck and all ore‐teamed loynes,A blancket in the alarme of feare caught vp.Who this had seene, with tongue in venom steept,Gainst fortunes state would treason haue pronounc'd;But if the gods themselues did see her then,When she saw Pirhus make malicious sportIn mincing with his sword her husbands limmes,The instant burst of clamor that she made,Vnlesse thing mortall mooue them not at all,Would haue made milch the burning eyes of heauenAnd passion in the gods,Pol.

Looke where he has not turned his collour, and has teares in's eyes prethee no more,

Ham.

Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest of this soone, good my Lord will you see the players well bestowed; doe you heare, let them be well vsed, for they are the abstract and breefe Chronicles of the time; after your death you were better haue a bad Epitaph then their ill report while you liue.

Pol.My Lord, I will vse them according to their desert.Ham,

Gods bodkin man, much better, vse euery man after his desert, and who shall scape whipping. vse them after your owne honour and dignity, the lesse they deserue the more merrit is in your bounty. Take them in.

Pol.Come sirs.Ha.Follow him friends, weele here a play to morrow; dost thouhereThe Tragedy of Hamletheare me old friend, can you play the murther of Gonzago?Play,I my Lord.Ham.

Weele hau't to morrow night, you could for need study a speech of some dosen lines, or sixteene lines, which I would set downe and insert in't: could you not?

Play.I my Lord.Ham.

Very well, follow that Lord, and looke you mocke him not. My good friends, Ile leaue you till night, you are welcome to Elsonoure.Exeunt Pol. and Players,

Ros.Good my Lord.Exit.Ham.I so, God buy to you, now I am alone,O what a rogue and pesant slaue an I!Is it not monstrous that this player heereBut in a fixion, in a dreame of passionCould force his soule so to his owne conceitThat from her working all the visage wand,Teares in his eyes, distraction in his aspect,A broken voyce, and his whole function sutingWith formes to his conceit; and all for nothing,For Hecuba.What's Hecuba to him, or he to her,That he should weepe for her? what would he doeHad he the motiue, and that for passionThat I haue? he would drowne the stage with teares,And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech,Make mad the guilty, and appeale the free,Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,The very faculties of eyes and eares; yet I,A dull and muddy mettled raskall peake,Like Iohn‐a‐dreames, vnpregnant of my cause,And can say nothing; no not for a King,Vpon whose property and most deare life,A damn'd defeate was made: am I a coward,Who calls me villaine, breakes my pate a crosse,Pluckes off my beard, and blowes it in my face,Twekes me by the nose, giues me the lie i'th throateAs deepe as to the lunges: who does me this,Hah! s'wounds I should take it: for it cannot beBut I am pidgion liuerd, and lacke gallToPrince of Denmarke.To make oppression bitter, or ere thisI should haue fatted all the region kytesWith this slaues offall, bloody, baudy villaine,Remorselesse, treacherous, letcherous, kindlesse vlllaine.Why what an Asse am I? this is most braue,That I the sonne of a deere father murthered,Prompted to my reuenge by heauen and hell,Must like a whore vnpack my heart with words,And fall a cursing like a very drabbe; a stallion, fie vppont, foh.About my braines, hum, I haue heard,That guilty creatures sitting at a play,Haue by the very cunning of the scene,Beene strooke so to the soule, that presentlyThey haue proclaim'd their malefactions:For murther though it haue no tongue will speakeWith most miraculous organ. Ile haue these PlayersPlay somthing like the murther of my fatherBefore mine Vncle, Ile obserue his lookes,Ile tent him to the quicke, if a do blenchI know my course. The spirit that I haue seeneMay be a diuell, and the diuell hath powerT'assume a pleasing shape; yea and perhaps,Out of my weakenesse and my melancholly,As hee is very potent with such spirits,Abuses mee to damne mee; Ile haue groundsMore relatiue then this, the play's the thingWherein Ile catch the conscience of the King.Exit.Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencraus, Guyl­ densterne, LordsKing.And can you by no drift of conferenceGet from him why hee puts on this confusion,Grating so harshly all his dayes of quietWith turbulent and dangerous lunacie?RosHe dooes confesse he feeles himselfe distracted,But from what cause a will by no meanes speake.Guyl.Nor do wee find him forward to be sounded,But with a crafty madnes keepes aloofeWhen we would bring him on to some confessionG.OThe Tragedy of HamletOf his true state.Quee,Did he receiue you well?Ros.Most like a gentleman.Guyl.But with much forcing of his disposition.Ros.Niggard of question, but of our demandsMost free in his reply.Quee.Did you assay him to any pastime?Ros.Maddam, it so fell out that certaine PlayersWe ore‐raught on the way, of these we told him,And there did seeme in him a kind of ioyTo heare of it: they are heere about the Court,And as I thinke, they haue already orderThis night to play before him.Pol.Tis most true,And he beseecht me to intreat your MaiestiesTo heare and see the matter.King.With all my heart,And it doth much content meTo heare him so inclin'd.Good gentlemen giue him a futher edge,And driue his purpose into these delights.Ros.We shall my Lord.Exeunt Ros. & Guyl,King.Sweet Gertrard, leaue vs two,For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hether,That he as t'were by accedent, may heereAffront Ophelia; her father and my selfe,Wee'le so bestow out selues, that seeing vnseene,We may of their encounter franckely iudge,And gather by him as he is behau'd,Ift be th'affliction of his loue or noThat thus he suffers for.Qee.I shall obey you.And for my part Ophelia, I doe wishThat your good beauties be the happy causeOf Hamlets wildnes, so shall I hope your vertuesWill bring him to his wonted way againe,To both your honours.Ophe.Maddam, I wish it may.Pol.Ophelia walke you heere: gracious so please you,WePrince of Denmarke.We will bestow our selues; reade on this booke,That show of such an exercise may collourYour lowlinesse; we are oft too blame in this,Tis too much proou'd, that with deuotions visageAnd pious action, we doe sugar oreThe Diuell himselfe.King,O tis too true,How smart a lash that speech doth giue my conscienceThe harlots cheeke beautied with plastring art,Is not more ougly to the thing that helps it,Then is my deede to my most painted word:O heauy burthen:Enter Hamlet.Pol.I heare him comming, with‐draw my Lord.Ham.To be, or not to be, that is the question,Whether tis nobler in the minde to sufferThe slings and arrowes of outragious fortune,Or to take Armes against a sea of troubles,And by opposing end them: To die to sleepeNo more: and by a sleepe, to say we endThe hart‐ake, and the thousand naturall shocksThat flesh is heire to; tis a consumationDeuoutly to be wisht to die to sleepe,To sleepe, perchance to dreame, I there's the rub,For in that sleepe of death what dreames may come?When we haue shuffled off this mortall coyleMust giue vs pause, there's the respectThat makes calamity of so long life:For who would beare the whips and scornes of time,Th'oppressors wrong, the proude mans contumely,The pangs of office, and the lawes delay,The insolence of office, and the spurnesThat patient merrit of th'vnworthy takes,When himselfe might his quietas makeWith a bare bodkin; who would fardels beare,To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life?But that the dread of something after death,The vndiscouer'd country, from whose borneG2NoThe Tragedy of HamletNo trauailer returnes, puzzels the will,And makes vs ather beare those ills we haue,Then flie to others that wee know not of.Thus conscience dooes make cowards,And thus the natiue hiew of resolutionIs sickled ore with the pale cast of thought.And enterprises of great pitch and moment,With this regard their currents turne awry,And loose the name of action. Soft you now,The faire Ophelia, Nimph in thy orizonsBe all my sinnes remembred.Ophe.Good my Lord,How dooes your honour for this many a day?Ham.I humbly thanke you; well.Ophe,My Lord, I haue remembrances of yoursThat I haue longed long to re‐deliuer,I pray you now receiue them.Ham.No, not I, I neuer gaue you ought.Ophe.My honor'd Lord, you know right well you did,And with them words of so sweet breath composdAs made these things more rich: their perfume lost,Take these againe, for to the noble mindRich gifts wax poore when giuers prooue vnkind,There my Lord.Ham.Ha, ha, are you honest.Oph.My Lord.Ham.Are you faire?Ophe.What meanes your Lordship?Ham.

That if you be honest and faire, you should admit no discourse to your beauty.

Oph.Could beauty my Lord haue better comerceThen with honesty?Ham.

I truely, for the power of beauty will sooner transforme ho­ nesty from what it is to a baude, then the force of honesty can trans­ late beauty into his likenesse, this was sometime a paradox, but now the time giues it proofe, I did loue you once.

Oph.Indeed my Lord you made me beleeue so.Ham.You should not haue beleeu'd me, for vertue cannot so euacuat our old stock, but we shall relish of it: I loued you not.Ophe,Prince of Denmarke.Ophe.I was the more deceiued.Ham.

Get thee a Nunry: why would'st thou be a bre eder of sin­ ners? I am my selfe indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse mee of such things, that it were better my Mother had not borne mee: I am very proude, reuengefull, ambitious, with more offences at my becke, then I haue thoughts to put them in, imaginatiōimagination to giue them shape, or time to act them in: what should such fellowes as I do crauling be­ tweene earth and heauen? we are arrant knaues, beleeue none of vs. go thy waies to a Nunry, Wher's your father?

Ophe.At home my Lord.Ham.Let the doers be shut vpon him,That he may play the foole no where but in's owne house,Farewell.Ophe.O helpe him you sweet heauens.Ham.

If thou doost marry, Ile giue thee this plage for thy dow­ rie, be thou as chast as yce, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape ca­ lumny get thee to a Nunry, farewell. Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a foole, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them: to a Nunry goe, and quickly to, farwell.

Ophe.Heauenly powers restore him.Ham.

I haue heard of your paintings well enough, God hath gi­ uen you one face, and you make your selfes another, you gig and am­ ble, and you list you nickname Gods creaturs, and make your wan­ tonnes ignorance; goe to, Ile no more on't, it hath made me madde, I say we will haue no mo marriage, those that are married already, all but one shal liue, the rest shall keep as they are: to a Nunry go.Exit,

Ophe.O what a noble mind is heere othrowne!The courtiers, souldiers, schollers, eye, tongue, sword,Th'expectation, and Rose of the faire state,The glasse of fashion, and the mould of forme,Th'obseru'd of all obseruers, quite, quite downe,And I of Ladies most deiect and wretched,That suckt the huny of his muickt vowes;Now see what noble and most soueraigne reasonLike sweet bells iangled out of time, and harsh,That vnmatcht forme and stature of blowne youthBlasted with extacy. O wo is meT'haue seene what I haue seene, see what I see.Exit.G3EnterThe Tragedy of HamletEnter King and Polonius.King.Loue: his affections doe not that way tend,Nor what he spake, though it lackt forme a little,Was not like madnes; there's something in his souleOre which his melancholy sits on brood,And I doe doubt, the hatch and the discloseWill be some danger; which for to preuent,I haue in quick determinationThus set downe: he shall with speed to England,For the demaund of our neglected tribute,Haply the seas, and countries different,With variable obiects, shall expellThis something setled matter in his hart,Whereon his braines still beatingPuts him thus from fashion of himselfe.What thinke you on't?Pol.It shall doe well.But yet doe I beleeue the origen and comencement of itSprung from neglected loue: how now Ophelia?You neede not tell vs what Lord Hamlet said,We heard it all: my Lord, doe as you please,But if you hold it fit, after the play.Let his Queene‐mother all alone intreate himTo show his griefe, let her be round with him,And Ile be plac'd (so please you) in the eareOf all their conference: if she find him not,To England send him: or confine him whereYour wisedome best shall thinke.King.It shall be so,Madnes in great ones must not vnmatcht goe.Exeunt.Enter Hamlet, and three of the Players.Ham.

Speake the speech I pray you as I pronounc'd it to you, trip­ pingly on the tongue, but if you mouth it as many of our Players do, I had as liue the towne cryer spoke my lines, nor doe not saw the aire too much with your hand thus, but vse all gently, for in the very tor­ rent tempest, and as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may giue it smoothnesse, O it offends me to the soule, to heare a robustious perwig‐pated fellow terePrince of Denmarke. tere a passion to totters, to very rags, to spleet the eares of the ground lings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbe shewes, and noyse: I would haue such a fellow whipt for ore­ dooing Termagant, it out Herods Herod, pray you auoyde it.

Play.I warrant your honour.Ham.

Be not too tame neither, but let your own e discretion bee your tutor, sute the action to the word, the word to the action, with this speciall obseruance, that you ore‐steppe not the modesty of na­ ture: For any thing so ore‐doone, is from the purpose of playing, whose end both at the first, and now, was and is, to hold as twere the Mirrour vp to nature, to shew vertue her feature; scorne her own Image, and the very age and body of the time his forme and pressure: Now this ouer‐done, or come trady off, though it makes the vnskil­ full laugh, cannot but make the iudicious greeue, the censure of which one, must in your allowance ore‐weigh a whole Theater of o­ thers. O there bee Players that I haue seene play, and heard others praysd, and that highly, not to speake it prophanely, that neither ha­ uing th'accent of Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan, nor man, haue so strutted and bellowed, that I haue thought some of Na­ tures Iournemen had made men, and not made them well, they imita­ ted humanity so abominably.

Play.I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with vs.Ha.

O reforme it altogether, and let those that play your clownes speake no more then is set downe for them, for there be of them that will themselues laugh, to set on some quantity of barraine spectators to laugh to, though in the meane time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that's villanous, and shewes a most pittifull ambition in the foole that vses it: goe make you ready. How now my Lord, will the King heare this peece of worke?

Enter Polonius, Guyldensterne, and Rosencraus.Pol.And the Queene to, and that presently,Ham.Bid the Plaiers make hast. Wil you two help to hasten them.Ros.I my LordExeunt those two.Ham.What how, Horatio.Enter Horatio.Hora.Heere sweete Lord, at your seruice.Ham.Horatio, thou art een as iust a manAs ere my conuersation copt withall.Hora.O my deere Lord.Ham NayThe Tragedy of HamletNay, do not thinke I flatter,For what aduancement may I hope from theeThat no reuenew hast but thy good spiritsTo feede and cloathe thee, why should the poore be flattred?No, let the candied tongue lick obsurd pompe,And crooke the pregnant hinges of the kneeWhere thrift may follow fauning, doost thou heare,Since my deere soule was mistris of her choyce,And could of men distinguish her electionS hath seald thee for her felfe, for thou hast beeneAs one in suffering all that suffers nothing,A man that Fortunes buffets and rewardsXHast tane with equall thankes; and blest are thoseWhose bloud and iudgement are so well comedled,That they are not a pipe for Fortunes fingerTo sound what stoppe shee please: giue me that manThat is not passions slaue, and I will weare himIn my hearts core, I in my heart of heartAs I do thee. Something too much of this,There is a play to night before the King,One scene of it comes neere the circumstanceWhich I haue told thee of my fathers death.I prethee when thou seest that act a foote,Euen with the very comment of thy souleObserue my Vncle, if his occulted guiltDoe not it selfe vnkennill in one speech,It is a damned Ghost that wee haue seene,And my imaginations are as fouleAs Vulcans stithy; giue him heedfull noteFor I mine eyes will riuet to his face,And after wee will both our iudgements ioyneIn censure of his seeming.Hora.Well my Lord,If a steale ought the whilst this play is playingAnd scape detected, I will pay the theft.Enter trumpets and Kettle Drummes, King, Queene, Polonis, Ophelia.Ham.They are comming to the play. I must be idle,GetPrince of Denmarke.Get you a place,King.How fares our cousin Hamlet?Ham.Excellent yfaith.Of the Camelions dish, I eate the ayre,Promis‐cram'd, you cannot feede Capons so.King.I haue nothing with this aunswer Hamlet,These words are not mine.Ham.No, nor mine now my Lord.You playd once i'th Vniuersity you say,Pol.That did I my Lord, and was accounted a good Actor,Ham.What did you enact?Pol.I did enact Iulius Cæsar, I was kild i'th Capitall,Brutus kild me.Ham.It was a brute part of him to kill so Capitall a calfe there.Be the Players ready?Ros.I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience.Ger.Come hether my deare Hamlet, sit by me.Ham.No good mother heere's mettle more attractiue.Pol.O, oh, doe you marke that.Ham.Lady shall I lie in your lap?Ophe.No my Lord.Ham.Doe you thinke I meant country matters?Ophe.I thinke nothing my Lord.Ham.That's a faire thought to lye betweene maydes legs.Ophe.What is my Lord?Ham.Nothing.Ophe.You are merry my Lord.Ham.Who I?Oph.I my Lord.Ham.

O God! your onely Iigge‐maker, what should a man do but be merry, for looke you how cheerfully my Mother lookes, and my father died within's two howres.

Ophe.Nay, tis twice two months my Lord.Ham,

So long, nay then let the diuell weare blacke, for Ile haue a sute of sables; O heauens, die two months ago, and not forgotten yet, then there's hope a great mans memory may out‐liue his life halfe a yeare, but ber Lady a must build Churches then, or else shall a suffer not thinking on, with the Hobby‐horse, whose Epiaph is, for O, for O, the hobby‐horse is forgot.

HEnterThe Tragedy of HamletThe Trumpets sound. Dumbe show followes. Enter a King and a Queene, the Queene embracing him, and he her he takes her vp, and declines his head vppon her necke, he lies him downe vp­ pon a bancke of flowers, she seeing him a sleepe, leaues him: anon comes in an other man, take's off his crowne, kisses it, pours poyson in the sleepers eares, and leaues him: the Queene returnes, finds the King dead, makes passionate action, the poysoner with some three or foure comes in againe, seeme to condole with her, the dead body is carried away, the poisoner woes the Queene with gifts, she seemes harsh awhile, but in the end accepts loue.Oph.What meanes this my Lord?Ham.Marry tis munching Mallico, it meanes mischiefe.Oph.Belike this show imports the argument of the play.Ham.We shall know by this fellow,Enter prologue.The players cannot keepe they'le tell all.Ophe.Will a tell us what this show meant?Ham.

I or any show that you will show him, be not you asham'd to show heele not shame to tell you what it meanes.

Oph.You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the play.Prologue.For vs and for our Tragedie,Heere stooping to your clemencie,We begge your hearing patiently.Ham.Is this a Prologue or the posie of a ring?Ophe.Tis breefe my Lord.Ham.As womans loue.Enter King and Queene.King.Full thirty times hath Phœbus Cart gone roundNeptunes salt wash, and Tellus orb'd the ground,And thirty dosen moones with borrowed sheeneAbout the world haue times twelue thirties beeneSince loue our hearts, and Hymen did our handsVnite comutuall in most sacred bands,Quee.So many iourneyes may the Sunne and MooneMake vs againe count ore ere loue bee doone,But woe is me you are so sicke of late,So farre from cheere, and from your former state,That I distrust you, yet though I distrust,Discomfort you my Lord it nothing must.ForPrince of Denmarke.For women feare too much, euen as they loue,And womens feare and loue hold quantity,Either none, in neither ought, or in extremity,Now what my Lord is proofe hath made you know,And as my loue is ciz'st, my feare is so,Where loue is great, the litlest doubts are feare,Where little feares grow great, great loue growes there.King.Faith I must leaue thee loue, and shortly to,My operant powers their functions leaue to do,And thou shalt liue in this fare world behind,Honord, belou'd, and haply one as kind,For husband shalt thou.Quee.O confound the rest.Such loue must needes be treason in my brest,In second husband let me be accurst,None wed the second, but who kild the first.Ham.That's wormwood.The instances that second marriage moueAre base respects of thrift, but none of loue,A second time I kill my husband dead,When second husband kisses me in bed.King.I doe beleeue you thinke what now you speake,But what we doe determine, oft we breake,Purpose is but the slaue to memory,Of violent birth, but poore validity,Which now the fruite vnripe sticks on the tree,But fall vnshaken when they mellow bee.Most necessary tis that we forgetTo pay our selues what to our selues is debt,What to our selues in passion we propose,The passion ending, doth the purpose lose,The violence of either, griefe, or ioy,Their owne ennactures with themselues destroy,Where ioy most reuels, griefe doth most lament,Greefe ioy, ioy griefes, on flender accedent,This world is not for aye, nor tis not strange,That euen our loues should with our fortunes change,For tis a question left vs yet to proue,Whether loue lead fortune, or else fortune loue.The great man downe, you marke his fauourite flies,H2TheThe Tragedy of HamletThe poore aduanced makes friends of enemies,And hethertoo doth loue on fortune tend,For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a friend,And who in want a hollow friend doth try,Directly seasons him his enemie.But orderly to end where I begunne,Our willes and fates doe so contrary runne,That our deuices still are ouerthrowne,Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne,So thinke thou wilt no second husband wed,But die thy thoughts when thy first Lord is dead.Quee.Nor earth to me giue foode, nor heauen light,Sport and repose lock from mee day, and night,To desperation turne my trust and hope,And Anchors cheere in prison be my scope,Each opposite that blanckes the face of ioy,Meete what I would haue well, and it destroy,Both heere and hence pursue me lasting strife,Ham.If she should breake it nowIf once I bee a widdow, euer I be a wife.King.Tis deepely sworne, sweet leaue mee heare a while,My spirits grow dull and faine I would beguyleThe tedious day with sleepe,Quee.Sleepe rock thy braine,And neuer come mischance betwixt vs twane.Exeunt.Ham.Maddam, how like you this play?Quee.The Lady doth protest too much me thinkes.Ham.O but shee'le keepe her word.King.Haue you heard the argument? is there no offence in't?Ham.No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no offence i th world.King.What do you call the play?Ham.

The Mousetrap, mary how tropically, this play is the Image of a murther done in Vienna, Gonzago is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista, you shall see anone, tis a knauish peece of worke, but what of that? your maiesty and we shall haue free soules, it touches vs not, let the gauled Iade winch, our withers are vnwrung. This is one Lu­ cianus, Nephew to the King.

Enter Lucianus.Oph.You are as good as a Chorus my Lord.Ham.I could interpret betweene you and your loueIfPrince of Denmarke.If I could see the puppits dallying.Ophe.You are keene my Lord, you are keene.Ham.It would cost you a groning to take off mine edge.Oph.Still better and worse.Ham.

A poysons him i'th Garden for his estate, his names Gonza­ go, the story is extant and written in very choice Italian, you shall see anon how the murtherer gets the loue of Gonzagoes wife.

Oph.The King rises.Quee.How fares my Lord?Pol.Giue ore the play.King.Giue me some light, away.Pol.Lights, lights, lights.Exeunt, all but Ham. and Horatio.Ham.Why let the stroken deere goe weepe,The Hart vngauled play,For some must watch whilst some must sleepe,Thus runnes the world away. Would not this sir and a forrest of fea­thers, if the rest of my fortunes turne Turke with me, with prouinci­all Roses, on my raz'd shooes, get me a fellowship in a city of players?Hora.Halfe a share.Ham,A whole one I.For thou dost know oh Damon deereThis Realme dimantled wasOf Ioue himselfe, and now raignes heereA very very paiok.Hora.You might haue rim'd.Ham.

O good Horatio, Ile take the Ghosts word for a thousand pound. Didst perceaue?

Hora.Very well my Lord.Ham.Vppon the talke of the poysoning.Hora.I did very well note him.H3Ham.The Tragedie of HamletHam.Ah ha, come some musique, com the Recorders,For if the King like not the Comedy,Why then belike he likes it not perdy.Come, some musique,Enter Rosencraus, Guyldensterne,Guyl.Good my Lord, voutsafe me a word with you.Ham.Sir a whole history.Guy.The King sir.Ham.I sir, what of him?Guyl.Is in his retirement meruailous distempred.Ham.With drinke fir?Guyl.No my lord, with choller,Ham.

You wisedome should shew it selfe more richer to signifie this to the Doctor, for, for me to put him to his purgation, would per­ haps plunge him into more choller.

Guyl.Good my Lord put your discourse into some frame,And stare not so wildly from my affaire.Ham.I am tame sir, pronounce.Guil.The Queene your mother in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.Ham.You are welcome.Guil.

Nay good my Lord, this curtesie is not of the right breed, if it shall please you to make me a wholsome aunswer, I will doe your mothers commaundement, if not, your patdon and my returne, shall be the end of busines.

Ham.Sir I cannot.Ros.What my Lord.Ham.

Make you a wholsome answer, my wits diseasd, but sir, such answere as I can make, you shall commaund, or rather as you say, my mother, therefore no more, but to the matter, my mother you say.

O wonderfull sonne that can so stonish a mother! but is there no sequell at the heeles of this mothers admiration? impart.

Ros.She desires to speake with you in her closet ere you go to bed.Ham.We shall obey, were she ten times our mother, haue you any further trade with vs?Ros.my Lord you once did loue me.Ham.And doe still by these pickers and stealers.Ros,Prince of Denmarke.Ros.

Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper, you do sure­ ly barre the doore vpon your owne liberty, if you deny your griefes to your friend.

Ham.Sir I lacke aduancement.Ros.

How can that be when you haue the voyce of the King him­ selfe for your succession in Denmarke.

Enter the Players with Recorders.Ham.

I sir, but while the grasse growes, the prouerbe is something musty, oh the Recorders, let me see one, to withdraw with you, whdo you goe about to recouer the wind of me, as if you would driume into a toyle?

GuylO my lord if my duty be too bold, my loue is too vnmanerly.Ham.I do not well vnderstand that, will you play vpon this pipe?Guyl.My Lord I cannot.Ham.I pray you.Guyl.Beleeue me I cannot.Ham.I beseech you.Guyl.I know no touch of it my Lord.Ham.

It is as easie as lying; gouerne these ventages with your fin­ gers, and the thumb giue it breath with your mouth, and it will dis­ course most eloquent musique, looke you, these are the stoppes.

Guyl.But these cannot I commaund to any vtrance of harmonie,I haue not the skill.Ham.

Why looke you now how vnworthy a thing you make of me, you would play vpon me, you would seeme to know my stops, you would plucke out the hart of my misterie, you would sound mee from my lowest note to my compasse, and there is much musique ex­ cellētexcellent voice in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak, s'blood do you thinke I am easier to be plaid on then a pipe, call me what in­ strument you wil, though you fret me not, you cannot play vpon me. God blesse you sir.

Enter Polonius.Pol.My Lord the Queene woud speake with you, & presently.Ham.Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a Camel?Pol.By'th masse and tis like a Camell indeede,Ham.Me thinkes it is like a Wezell.Pol.It is black like a Wezell.Ham.Or like a Whale.Pol.Very like a Whale.Ham. ThenThe Tragedie of HamletThen I will come to my mother by and by,They foole me to the top of my bent, I will come by and by,Leaue me friends.I will, say so. By and by is easily said,Tis now the very witching time of night,When Churchyards yawne, and hell it selfe breakes outContagion to this world: now could I drinke hote blood,And doe such businesse as the bitter dayWould quake to looke on: soft, now to my mother,O hart loose not thy nature! let not euer,The soule of Nero enter this firme bosome!Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall,I will speake dagger to her, but vse none,My tongue and soule in this be hypocrites,How in my words someuer she be shent,To giue them seales neuer my soule consent.Exit,Enter King, Rosencraus, and Guyldensterne.King.I like him not, nor stands it safe with vsTo let his madnesse range, therefore prepare you,I your commission will forth‐with dispatch,And he to England shall along with you,The termes of our estate may not endureHazerd so neer's as doth hourely grow,Out of his browes.Guyl.We will our selues prouide,Most holy and religious feare it isTo keepe those many many bodies safeThat liue and feed vpon your Maiesty.Ros.The single and peculier life is bound,With all the strength and armour of the mindTo keepe it selfe from noyance, but much moreThat spirit, vpon whose weale depends and restsThe liues of many, the cesse of MaiestyDies not alone; but like a gulfe doth drawWhat's eere it, with it, or it is a massie wheeleFixt on the somnet of the highest mount,To whose hugh spokes, tenn thousand lesser thingsAre morteist and adioynd, which when it falls,EachPrince of Denmarke.Each small annexment, pety consequenceAttends the boystrous raine, neuer aloneDid the King sigh, but a generall growne.King.Arme you I pray you to this speedy voi age,For we will fetters put about this feareWhich now goes too free‐footed.Ros.We will hast vs.Exeunt Gent.Enter Polonius.Pol.My Lord, he's going to his mothers closet,Behind the Arras I'le conuay my selfeTo here the prossesse, I'le warrant shee'le tax him home,And as you said, and wisely was it sayd,Tis meete that some more audience then a mother,Since nature makes them partiall, should ore‐heareThe speech of vantage; fare you well my Leige,I'le call vpon you ere you goe to bed.And tell you what I know.Exit.King.Thankes deere my Lord.O my offence is rancke, it smels to heauen,It hath the primall eldest curse vppont,A brothers murther, pray can I not,Though inclination be as sharp as will,My stronger guilt defeats my stronge entent,And like a man to double busines bound,I stand in pause where I shall first beginne,And both neglect: what if this cursed handWere thicker then it selfe with brothers blood,Is there not raine enough in the sweee HeauensTo wash it white as snow? whereto serues mercyBut to confront the visage of offence?And what's in praier but this two‐fold forceTo be forestalled ere we come to fall,Or pardon being downe, then Ile looke vp.My faults is past, but oh! what forme of prayerCan serue my turne? forgiue me my foule murther;That cannot be since I am still possestOf those affects for which I did the murther;My Crowne, mine owne ambition, and my Queene;IMayThe Tragedy of HamletMay one be pardoned and retaine th'offence?In the corrupted currents of this world,Offences guided hand may show by iustice,And oft tis seene the wicked prize it selfeBuyes out the law, but tis not so aboue,There is no shufling, there the action liesIn his true nature, and we our selues compeldEuen to the teeth and forehead of our faultsTo giue in euidence: what then, what rests?Try what repentance can, what can it not,Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?O wretched state, O bosome blacke as death,O limed soule, that struggling to be free,Art more ingaged! helpe Angles make assay,Bow stubborne knees and hart with strings of steele,Be soft as sinnewes of the new borne babe,All may be well.Enter Hamlet.Ham.Now might I doe it, but now a is a praying,And now Ile doo't, and so a goes to heauen,And so am I reuendge, that would be scandA villaine kills my father, and for that,I his sole sonne, doe this same villaine sendTo heauen.Why, this is base and silly. ––––––––– not reuendge,A tooke my father grosely .full of bread,Withall his crimes broad blowne, as flush as May,And how his audit stands who knowes saue heauen,But in our circumstance and course of thought,Tis heauy with him: and am I then reuendgedTo take him in the purging of his soule,When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?No,Vp sword, and know thou a more horrid hent,When he is drunke, a sleepe, or in his rage,Or in th'incestious pleasure of his bed,At game, a swearing, or about some actThat has no relish of saluation in't.ThenPrince of Denmarke.Then trip him that his heele mas kick at heauen,And that his soule may be as damnd and blackeAs hell whereto it goes; my mother staies,This phisicke but prolongs thy sickly daies.Exit.King.My words fly vp, my thoughts remaine belowWords without thoughts neuer to heauen goe.Exit.Enter Gertrard and Polonius.Polo.A will come strait, looke you lay home to him,Tell him his prancks haue beene too broad to beare with,And that your grace hath screen'd and stood betweeneMuch heate and him, Ile silence me euen heere,Pray you be round.Enter Hamlet.Ger.Ile waite you, feare me not,With‐draw, I heare him comming.Ham.Now mother, what's the matter?Ger.Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.Ham.Mother you haue my father much offended.Ger.Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue,Ham.Goe goe, you question with a wicked tongue.Ger.Why how now Hamlet?Ham.What's the matter now?Ger.Haue you forgot me?Ham.No by the rood not so,You are the Queene, your husbands brothers wife,And would it were not so, you are my mother.Ger.Nay then Ile set those to you that can speake.Ham,Come, come, and sit you downe, you shall not boudge,You goe not till I set you vp a glasseWhere you may see the most part of you.Ger.What wilt thou doe, thou wilt not murther me?Helpe hoe.Polo,What hoe helpe.Ham.How now, a Rat, dead for a Duckat, dead.Pol.O I am slaine.Ger.O me, what hast thou done?Ham.Nay I know not, is it the King?I2Ger.The Tragedy of HamletGerO what a rash and bloody deede is this.HamA bloody deede, almost as bad good motherAs kill a King, and marry with his brother.GerAs kill a King.Ham.I Lady, it was my word.Thou wretched, rash, intruding foole farewell,I tooke thee for thy better, take thy fortune,Thou find'st to bee too busie is some danger.Leaue wringing of your hands, peace sit you downe,And let me wring your heart, for so I shallIf it be made of penetrable stuffe,If damned custome haue nor brasd it so,That it be proofe and bulwark against sence.Ger.What haue I done, that thou dar'st waggc thy tongueIn noyse so rude against me?Ham.Such an actThat blurres the grace and blush of modesty,Calls vertue hipocrit, takes of the RoseFrom the faire forhead of an innocent loue,And sets a blister there, makes mariage vowesAs false as dicers oathes, Oh such a deed!As from the body of contraction pluckesThe very soule: and sweet religion makesA rapsody of words; heauens face dooes glowOre this solidiry and compound masseWith heated visage, as against the doomeIs thought‐sick at the act.Quee.Ay me what act?Ham.That roares so low'de and thunders in the Index,Looke here vpon this Picture, and on this,The counterfeit presentment of two brothers,See what a grace was feated on his browe,Hiperions curles, the front of Ioue him‐selfe,An eye like Mars, to threten and command,A station like the herald Mercury,New lighted on a heaue, a kissing hill,A combination and fo rme indeede,Where euery God didseeme to set his sealeTo giue the world assurance of a man,ThisPrince of Denmarke.This was your husband, looke you now what followes,Heere is your husband like a mildewed eare,Blasting his wholesome brother: haue you eyes?Could you on this faire mountaine leaue to feede,And batton on this Moore; ha, haue you eyes?You cannot call it loue, for at your ageThe heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble,And waites vpon the iudgement, and what iudgementWould step from this to this? sence sure you haueEls could you not haue motion, but sure that senceIs appoplext, for madnesse would not erreNor senc to extacie was neere so thral'dBut it reseru'd some quantity of choyceTo serue in such a difference. What diuell wastThat thus hath cosond you at hodman‐blind?Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,Eares without hands, or eyes, smelling sance all,Or but a sickly part of one true senceCould not so mope. Oh shame! where is thy blush?Rebellious hell,If thou canst mutine in a Matrons bones,To flaming youth, let vertue be as waxAnd melt in her owne fire, proclaime no shameWhen the compulsiue ardure giues the charge,Since frost it selfe as actiuely doth bune,And reason pardons will.Ger.O Hamlet speake no more,Thou turn'st my very eyes into my soule,And there I see such black and greeued spotsAs will leaue there their tin'ct.Ham.Nay but to liueIn the rancke sweat of an incestuous bedStewed in corruption, honying and making loueOuer the nasty stie.Ger.O speake to mee no more,These words like daggers enter in my eares,No more sweet Hamlet.Ham.A murtherer and a villaine,A slaue that is not twentith part the kythI3OfThe Tragedie of HamletOf your precedent Lord, a vice of Kings,A cut‐purse of the Empire and the rule,That from a shelfe the precious Diadem stoleAnd put it in his pocket.Enter Ghost.Ham.A King of shreds and patches,Saue me and houer ore me with your wingsYou heauenly gards: what would your gratious figure?Ger.Alasse hee's mad.Ham.Doe youe not come your tardy sonne to chide,That lap'st in time and passion lets goe byTh'important acting of your dread command. O say!Ghost.Doe not forget: this visitationIs but to whet thy almost blunted purpose,But looke, amazement on thy mother sits,O step betweene her, and her sighing soule!Conceit in weakest bodies strongest workes,Speake to her Hamlet.Ham.How is it with you Lady?Ger.Alasse how i'st with you?That you doe bend your eye on vacancy.And with th'incorporall ayre doe hold discourse,Foorth at your eyes your spirrits wildly peep,And as the sleeping souldiers in th'alarme,Your beaded haire like life in excrementsStarts vp and stands an end: O gentle sonne!Vpon the heate and flame of thy distemperSprinckle coole patience, whereon doe you looke?Ham.On him, on him, looke you how pale he glares,His forme and cause conioyned, preaching to stonesWould make them capable, doe not looke vpon me,Least with this pittious action you conuertMy stearne effects, then what I haue to doeWill want true collour, teares perchance for blood.Ger.To whome doe you speake this?Ham.Doe you see nothing there?Ger.Nothing at all, yet all that is there I see.Ham.Nor did you nothing heare?Ger.No nothing but our selues.Ham.Prince of Denmarke.Ham.Why looke you there, looke how it steales away,My father in his habit as he liue'd,Looke where he goes, euen now out at the portall.Exit Ghost.Ger.This is the very coynage of your braine,This bodilesse creation, extacy is very cunning inHam.My pulse as yours doth temperatly keepe time,And makes as healthfull musicke, it is not madnesseThat I haue vttred, bring me to the test,And the matter will reword, which madnesseWould gambole from. Mother for loue of grace,Lay not that flattering vnction to your souleThat not your trespasse but my madnesse speakes,It will but skin and filme the vlcerous place,Whiles rancke corruption mining all withinInfects vnseene: confesse your selfe to heauen,Repent what's past, auoyd what is to come,And doe not spread the compost on the weedesTo make them rancker, forgiue me this my vertue,For in the fatnesse of these pursie timesVertue it selfe of vice must pardon beg,Yea curbe and wooe for leaue to doe him good.Ger.O Hamlet! thou hast cleft my hart in twaine.Ham.O throw away the worser part of it,And leaue the purer with the other halfe,Good night, but goe not to my Vncles bed,Assume a vertue if you haue it not,That monster custome, who all sence doth eateOf habits deuill, is angell yet in thisThat to the vse of actions faire and good,He likewise giues a frocke or LiueryThat aptly is put on to refraine night,And that shall lend a kind of easinesTo the next abstinence, the next more easie:For vse almost can change the stamp of nature,And Maister the diuell, or throw him outWith wonderous potency: once more good night,And when you are desirous to be blest,Ile blessing beg of you, for this same LordI doe repent; but heauen hath pleas'd it soToThe Tragedie of HamletTo punish me with this, and this with me,That I must be their scourge and minister,I will bestow him and will answer wellThe death I gaue him; so againe good nightI must be cruell onely to be kinde,This bad beginnes, and worse remaines behind.One word more good LadyGer.What shall I doe?Ham.Not this by no meanes that I bid you doe,Let the blowt King temp't you againe to bed,Pinch wanton on your cheeke, call you his Mouse.And let him for a paire of reechy kisses,Or padling in your necke with his damn'd fingers.Make you to oell all this matter outThat I essentially am not in madnesse,But mad in craft, t'were good you let him know.For who that's but a Queene, faire, sober, wise,Would from a paddack, from a bat, a gib,Such deare concernings hide, who would doe so,No, in dispight of sence and secrecy,Vnpeg the basket on the houses top,Let the birds fly, and like the famous Ape,To try conclusions in the basket creepe,And breake your owne necke downe.Ger.Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,And breath of life, I haue no life to breathWhat thou hast sayd to me.Ham.I must to England, you know that,Ger.Alacke I had forgot.Tis so concluded on.Ham.Ther's letters seald, and my two Schoolefellowes,Whom I will trust as I will Adders fang'd,They beare the mandat, they must sweepe my wayAnd marshall me to knauery: let it worke,For tis the sport to haue the enginerHoist with his owne petar, an't shall goe hardBut I will delue one yard belowe their mines,And blow them at the Moone: O tis most sweeteWhen in one line two crafts directly meete,ThisPrince of Denmarke.This man shall set me packing,Ile lugge the guts into the neighbour roome;Mother good night indeed, this CounsaylerIs now most still, most secret, and most graue,Who was in life a most foolish prating knaue.Come sir, to draw toward an end with you.Good night mother.Exit.Enter King, and Queene, with Rosencrausand Gyldensterne.King.There's matter in thesesighes, these profound heaues,You must translate, tis fit we vnderstand them,Where is your sonne?Gert.Bestow this place on vs a little while.Ah mine owne Lord, what haue I seene to night?KingWhat Gertrad, how dooes Hamlet?Gert.Mad as the sea and wind when both contendWhich is the mightier in his lawlesse fit,Behind the Arras hearing some thing stirre,Whips out his Rapier, cryeis a Rat, a Rat,And in this brainish apprehension killsThe vnseene good old man.King,O heauy deed!It had beene so with v had we beene there,His liberty is full of threates to all,To you your selfe, to vs, to euery one,Alas, how shall this bloody deede be answer'd?It will be layd to vs, whose prouidenceShould haue kept short, restraind, and out of hauntThis mad young man; but so much was our loue,We would not vnderstand what was most fit,But like the owner of a foule diseaseTo keepe it from divulging, let it feedeEuen on the pith of life: where is he gone?Gert.To draw apart the body he hath kild,Ore whom, his very madnesse like some oreAmong a minerall of mettals base,Showes it selfe pure, a weepes for what is done.King.Gertrad, com away,KTheThe Tragedy of HamletThe Sunne no sooner shall the mountaines touch,But wee will shippe him hence, and this vile deedeWee must with all our Maiesty and skillEnter Ros. & Guyld.,Both countenance and excuse. Ho Guyldensterne,Friends both, goe ioyne you with some further ayde,Hamlet in madnes hath Polonius slaine,And from his mothers closset hath hee drag'd him,Goe seeke him out speake sayre and bring the bodyInto the Chappell; I pray you hast in this,Come Gertrard, wee'le call vp our wisest friends,And let them know both what wee meane to doAnd whats vntimely done,Whose whisper ore the worlds Diameter,As leuell as the Cannon to his blanck,Transports his poysned shot, may misse our name,And hit the woundlesse ayre, O come away,My soule is full of discord and dismay.Exeunt.Enter Hamlet, Rosencraus and others.Ham.Safely stowd, but softly, what noyse, who calls on Hamlet?O heere they come.Ros.What haue you done my Lord with the dead body?Ham.Compounded it with dust whereto it is kin.Ros.Tell vs where tis that wee may take it thence,And beare it to the Chappell.Ham.Do not beleeue it.Ros.Beleeue what?Ham.

That I can keepe your counsaile and not mine owne, besides to be demaunded of a spunge, what replication should be made by the sonne of a King.

Ros.Take you me for a spunge my Lord?Ham.

I sir, that sokes vp the Kings countenance, his rewards, his authorities, but such Officers do the King best seruice in the end, he keepes them like an apple in the corner of his iaw, first mouth'd to be last swallowed, when he needs what you haue gleand, it is but squee­ sing you, and spunge you shall be dry againe.

Ros.I vnderstand you not my Lord.Ham.I am glad of it, a knauish speech sleepes in a foolish eare.Ros.My Lord, you must tell vs where the body is, and go with vs to the King,HamletPrince of Denmarke.Ham.

The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. The King is a thing.

Guyl.A thing my Lord.Ham.Of nothing, bring me to him.Exeunt.Enter King, and two or three.King.I haue sent to seeke him, and to find the body,How dangerous is it that this man goes loose,Yet must not we put the strong Law on him,Hee's lou'd of the distracted multitude,Who like not in their iudgement, but their eyes,And where tis so, th'offenders scourge is wayedBut neuer the offence: to beare all smooth and euen,This suddaine sending him away must seemeDeliberate pause, diseases desperate growne,By desperate applyance are relieu'dOr not at all.Enter Rosencraus and all the rest.King.How now, what hath befalne?Ros.Where the dead body is bestowd my LordWe cannot get from him.King.But where is he?Ros.Without my Lord, guarded to know your pleasure.Kidg.Bring him before vs.Ros.Hoe, bring in the Lord.They Enter.King.Now Hamlet, where's Polonius?Ham.At supper.King.At supper where.Ham.

Not where he eates, but where a is eaten, a certaine conua­ cation of politique wormes are een at him: your worme is your only Emperour for dyet, we fat all creatures else to fat vs, and we fat our selues for maggots, your fat King and your leane begger is but varia­ ble seruice, two dishes but to one table, that's the end.

King.Alasse, alasse.Ham.

A man may fish with the worme that hath eate of a King, eate of the fish that hath fedde of that worme.

King.What dost thou meane by this?Ham.Nothing but to shew you how a King may go a progresseK2throughThe Tragedy of Hamletthrough the guttes of a begger.King.Where is Polonius?Ham.

In heauen, send thether to see, if your messenger find him not there, seeke him i'th other place your selfe, but if indeed you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you goe vppe the stayres into the Lobby.

King.Goe seeke him thereHam.A will stay till you come.King.Hamlet this deede for thine especiall safetyWhich wee do tender, as wee deerely greeueFor that which thou hast done, must send thee hence:Therefore prepare thy selfe,The barke is ready, and the wind at helpe,Th'assotiats tend, and euery thing is bentFor England.Ham.For EnglandKing.I Hamlet.Ham.Good.King.So is it if thou knew'st our purposes.Ham.I see a Cherub that sees them, but come for England.Farewell deere mother.King.Thy louing father Hamlet.Ham.My mother, father and mother is man and wife,Man and wife is one flesh, so my mother:Come for England,Exit–King.Follow him at foote,Tempt him with speede abourd,Delay it not, Ile haue him hence to night.Away, for euery thing is seald and doneThat els leanes on the affaire, pray you make hast,And England if my loue thou hold'st at ought,As my great power thereof may giue thee sence,Since yet thy Cicatrice lookes raw and red,After the Danish sword, and thy freee awePayes homage to vs, thou maist not coldly setOur soueraigne processe, which imports at fullBy letters congruing to that effectThe present death of Hamlet, do it England,For like the Hectique in my blood hee rages,AndPrince of Denmarke.And thou must cure me till I know tis done,How ere my haps, my ioyes will nere beginne.Exit.Enter Fortinbrasse with his Armie ouer the Stage.Fortin.Goe Captaine, from mee greet the Danish King,Tell him, that by his lycence FortinbrasseCraues the conueyance of a promis'd marchOuer his kingdome, you know the rendezuous,If that his maiesty would ought with vs,Wee shall expresse our duty in his eye,And let him know so.Cap.I will doo't my Lord.Fortin.Goe softly on.Enter Hamlet, Rosencraus, &c.Ham.Good sir whose powers are these?Cap.The are of Norway sir.Ham.How proposd sir I pray you?Cap.Aainst some part of Poland.Ham.Who commands them sir?Cap.The Nephew to old Norway, Fortinbrasse.Ham.Goes it against the maine of Poland sir?Or for some frontire?Cap.Truely to speake, and with no additionWe goe to gaine a little patch of groundThat hath in it no profit but the nameTo pay fiue duckets, fiue I would not farme it?Nor will it yeeld to Norway or the PoleA rancker rate, should it bee sould in fee.Ham.Why then the Pollacke neuer will defend it.CapYes it is already garisond.Ham–Two thousand soules and twenty thousand ducketsWill not debate the question of this straw,This is th'impostume of much wealth and peace,That inward breakes and shewes no cause w ithoutWhy the man dies. I humbly thanke you sir.Cap.God buy you sir.Ros.Wil't please you goe my Lord?Ham.Ile be with you straight, goe a little before.How all occasions do informe against mee,K3AndThe Tragedie of HamletAnd spur my dull reuenge. What is a manIf his chiefe good and market of his timeBe but to sleepe and feed, a beast, no more:Sure he that made vs with suh large discourseLooking before and after, gaue vs notThat capability and God‐like reasonTo fust in vs vnusd, now whether it beBestiall obliuion, or some crauen scrupleOf thinking too precisely on th'euent,A thought which quartered hath but one part wisdome,And euer three parts coward, I doe not knowWhy yet I liue to say this thing's to doe,Sith I haue cause, and wil and strength, and meanesTo doo't; examples grosse as earth exhort me,Witnes this Army of such masse and charge,Led by a delicate and tender Prince,Whose spirit with diuine ambition puft,Makes mouthes at the inuisible euent,Exposing what is mortall, and vnsure,To all that fortune, death and danger dare,Euen for an Egge‐shell. Rightly to be great,Is not to stirre without great argument,But greatly to find quarrell in a strawWhen honour's at the stake. How stand I thenThat haue a father kild, a mother staind,Excytements of my reason, and my blood,And let all sleepe, while to my shame I seeThe iminent death of twenty thousand men,That for a fantasie and tricke of fameGoe to their graues like beds, fight for a plotWhereon the numbers cannot try the cause,Which is not tombe enough and continentTo hide the slaine. O from this time forth,My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.Exit.Enter Horatio, Gertrard, and a Gentleman.Quee.I will not speake with her,Gsn.She is importunat,Indeed distract, her moode will needes be pittied.Quee.Prince of Denmarke.Quee.What would she haue?Gent.,She speakes much of hcr father, sayes shee hearesThere's tricks i'th world, and hems, and beats her heart,Spurnes enuiously at strawes, speakes things in doubtThat carry but halfe sence, her speech is nothing,Yet the vnshaped vse of it doth moueThe hearers to collection, they yawne at it,And botch the words vp fit to their owne thoughts,Which as winckes, and nods, and gestures yeeld them,Indeede would make one thinke there might be thoughtThough nothing sure, yet much vnhappily.Hora.Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strewDangerous coniectures in ill‐breeeding mindes,Let her come inEnter Ophelia.Quee.‘To my sicke soule, as sinnes true nature is,‘Each toy seemes prologue to some great amisse,‘So full of artlesse iealosie is guilt,‘It spills it selfe, in fearing to be spilt.Oph.Where is the beauteous Maiesty of Denmarke?Quee.How now Ophelia.she sings.Oph.How should I your true loue know from another one,By his cockle hat and staffe, and his Sendall shoone.Quee.Alasse sweet Lady, what imports this song?Oph.Say you, nay pray you marke,He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone,Song.At his head a grasse greene turph, at his heeles a stone.O ho.Quee.Nay but Ophelia.Oph.Pray you marke. White his shrowd as the mountaine snow.Enter King.Quee.Alasse looke heere my Lord.OpheLarded all with sweet flowers,Which beweept to the ground did not goSong.With true loue showers.King.How doe you pretty Lady?Oph.Well good dild you, they say the Owle was a Bakers daugh­ ter, Lord wee know what wee are, but know not what we may be,God be at your tableKing.The Tragedy of HamletKing.Conceit vpon her Father.Ophe.Pray lets haue no words of this, but when they aske you what it meanes, say you this.To morrow is S. Valentines day,Song.All in the morning betime,And I a mayd at your windowTo be your Valentine.Then vp he rose, and dond his close, and dupt the chamber doore,Let in the maide, that out a maide, neuer departed more.King.Pretty Ophelia.Ophe.Indeed without an oath Ile make an end on't,By gis and by Saint charity, alacke and fie for shame,Young men will doo't if they come too't, by Cocke they are too blame.Quoth she, before you tumbled me, you promisd me to wed,(He answers) So should I a done by yonder sunneAnd thou hadst not come to my bed.King.How long hath she beene thus?Oph.

I hope all will be well, we must be patient, but I cannot chuse but weepe to thinke they would lay him i'th cold ground my bro­ ther shall know of it, and so I thanke you for your good counsaile.

Come my Coach, God night Ladies, God night.Sweet Laides God night, God night.King.Follow her elose, giue her good watch I pray you.O this is the poyson of deepe griefe, it springs all from her Fathers death, and now behold, O Gertrard, Gertrard,When sorrowes come, they come not single spies,But in battalians: first her Father slaine,Next, your sonne gone, and he most violent AuthorOf his owne iust remoue, the people muddiedThick and vnwholesome in thoughts, and whispersFor good Polonius death: and we haue done but greenlyIn hugger mugger to inter him: poore OpheliaDeuided from herselfe, and her faire iudgement,Without the which we are pictures, or meere beasts,Last, and as much contayning as all these,Her brother is in secret come from France,Feeds on this wonder, keepes himselfe in clowdes,AndPrince of Denmarke.And wants not buzzers to infect his eareWith pestilent speeches of his fathers death,Wherein necessity of matter beggerd,Will nothing stick our person to arraigneIn eare and eare: O my deare Gertrard, thisLike to a murdring‐peece in many placesGiues me superfluous death.A noyse within.Enter a messenger.King.Attend, where are my Swissers, let them guard the doore,What is the matter?Messen.Saue your selfe my Lord.The Ocean ouer‐peering of his list.Eates not the flats with more impetuous astThen young Laertes in a riotous headOre‐beares your Officers: the rabble call him Lord,And as the world were now but to beginne,Antiquity forgot, custome not knowne,The ratifiers and props of euery word,The cry choose we, Laertes shall be King,Caps, hands and tongues applau'd it to the clouds,Laertes shall be King, Laertes King.Que.How cheerefully on the false traile they cry.A noise within.O this is counter, you false Danish dogges.Enter Laertes with others.King.The doores are broke.Laer.Where is this King? sirs stand you all without.All.No lets come in.Laer.I pray you giue mee leaue.All.We will, we will.Laer.I thanke you: keepe the doore, O thou vile King,Giue me my father.Quee.Calmely good Laertes.Laer.That drop of blood thats calme proclaimes me Bastard,Cries cuckold to my father, brands the HarlotEuen heere betweene the chast vnsmerched broweOf my true mother.KingWhat is the cause LaertesThat thy rebellion lookes so Giant‐like?L.LetThe Tragedy of HamletLet him goe Gertrard, do not feare our person,There's such diuinity doth hedge a King,That treason cannot peepe to what it would,Act's little of his will, tell me LaertesWhy thou art thus incenst, let him goe Gertrard,Speake man.Laer.Where is my father?King.Dead.Quee.But not by him.King.Let him demaund his fill.Laer.How came he dead? Ile not be iugled with,To hell alegiance, vowes to the blackest diuell,Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pitI dare damnation, to this poynt I stand,That both the worlds I giue to negligence,Let come what comes, onely I'le be reuengdMost throughly for my father.King.Who shall stay you?LaerMy will, not all the worlds:And for my meanes Ile husband them so well,The shall goe farre with little.King.Good Laertes, if you desire to know the certaintyOf your deere father, i'st writ in your reuenge,That soope‐stake, you will draw both friend and foeWinner and looser.Laer.None but his enemies.King.Will you know them then?Laer.To his good friends thus wide I'le ope my armes,And like the kind life‐rendering Pelican,Repast them with my blood.King.Why now you speakeLike a good child and a true Gentleman.That I am guiltlesse of your fathers death,And am most sencible in griefe for it,It shall as leuell to your iudgement peareAs day dooes to your eye.A noyse within.Enter Ophelia.Laer.Let her come in.How now what noyse is that?OPrince of Denmarke.O heate, dry vp my braines, tear es seauen times saltBurne out the sence and vertue of mine eye.By heauen thy madnes shall be payd with weightTill our scale turne the beame. O Rose of May,Deere mayd, kind sister, sweet Ophelia,O heauens, ist possible a young maids witsShould be as mortall as a poore mans life!Ophe.They bore him bare‐fac'd on the Beere,Song.And in his graue rain'd many a teare,Fare you well my Doue..Laer.Hadst thou thy wits, and did'st perswade reuengeIt could not mooue thus.Ophe.You must sing a downe a downe,And you call him a downe a. O how the wheele becomes it,It is the false Steward that stole his Maisters daughter,Laer.This nothing's more then matter.Ophe.

There's Rosemary, that for remembrance, pray you loue re­ member, and there is Pancies, thats for thoughts.

Laer.A document in madnes, thoughts and remembrance fitted.Ophe.

There's Fennill for you, and Colembines, there's Rewe for you, & heere's some for me, we may call it herbe of Grace a Sondaies, you may weare your Rewe with a difference, there's a Dasie, I would giue you some Violets, but they witherd all when my Father dyed, they say a made a good end.

For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy.Lear.Thought and afflictions, passion, hell it selfeShe turnes to fauour and to prettinesse.Ophe.And will a not come againe,Song.And will a not come againe,No, no, he is dead, goe to thy death bed,He neuer will come againe.His beard was as white as snow,Flaxen was his pole,He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone,God a mercy on his soule, and all Christians soules,God buy yous.Lear.Doe you this O God.King.Laertes, I must commune with your griefe,Or you deney me right, goe but a part,L2MakeThe Tragedy of HamletMake choice of whome your wisest friends you will,And they shall heare and iudge twixt you and me,If by direct or by colaturall handThey find vs toucht, we will our kindome giue,Our crowne, our life, and all that we call oursTo you in satisfaction; but if not,Be you content to lend your patience to vs,And we shall ioyntly labour with your souleTo giue it due content.Laer.Let this be so.His meanes of death, his obscure funerall,No trophæ, sword, nor hachment ore his bones,No noble right, nor formall ostentation,Cry to be heard as twere from heauen to earth,That I must call't in question.Kin.So you shall,And where th'Offence is, let the great axe fall.I pray you goe with me.Exeunt.Enter Horatio and others.Hora.What are they that would speake with me?Gen.Sea‐faring men sir, they say they haue Letters for you,Hora.Let them come in.I doe not know from what part of the worldI should be greeted. If not from Lord Hamlet.Enter SaylersSay.God blesse you sir.Hora.Let him blesse thee to.Say.

A shall sir and please him, there's a Letter for you sir, it came from th'Embassador that was bound for England, if your name bee Horatio, as I am let to know it is.

Hor.

Horatio, when thou shalt haue ouer‐look't this, giue these fel­ lowes some meanes to the King, they haue Letters for him: Ere wee were two daies old at Sea, a Pyrat of very warlike appointment gaue vs chase, finding our selues too slow of saile, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boorded them, on the instant they got cleere of our ship, so I alone became their prisoner, they haue dealt with me like theeues of mercy, but they knew what they did: I am to doe a turne for them, let the King haue the Letters I haue sent, and repayre thou to mee with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I haue words to speake in thine eare wil make thee dumbe, yet are theyPrince of Denmarke. they mueh too light for the bord of the matter, these good fellowes will bring thee where I am, Rosencraus and Guildersterne hold their course for England, of them I haue much to tell thee, farwell.

So that thou knowest thine Hamlet.

Hora.Come I will make you way for these your letters,And doo't the speedier that you may direct meTo him from whome you brought them.Exeunt.Enter King and Laertes.King.Now must y our conscience my acquittance seale,And you must put me in your heart for friend,Sith you haue heard and with a knowing eare,That he which hath your noble father slaiePusued my life.Lar.It well appeares: but tell meWhy you proceede not against these featesSo criminall and so capitall in nature,As by your safety, greatnes, wisdome, all things els,You mainly were stirr'd vp.King.O for two speciall reasonsWhich may to you perhaps seeme much vnsinnow'd,But yet to me tha'r strong, the Queene his motherLiues almost by his lookes, and for my selfe,My vertue or my plague, be it either which,She is so concliue to my life and soule,That as the starre mooues not but in his sphereI could not but by her, the other motiue,Why to a publique count I might not goe,Is the great loue the generall gender beare him,Who dipping all his faults in their affection,Worke like the spring that turneth wood to stone,Conuert his Giues to graces, so that my arrowesToo slightly tymbered for so loued armes,Would haue reuerted to my bow againe,But not where I haue aym'd them.Laer.And so haue I a noble father lost,A sister driuen into desperat termes,VVhose worth, if prayses may goe backe againeL3StoodThe Tragedy of HamletStood challenger on mount of all the ageFor her perfections, but my reuenge will come.King.Breake not your sleepes for that, you must not thinkeThat we are made of stuffe so flat and dull,That we can let our berd be shooke with danger,And thinke it pastime, you shortly shall heare more,I lou'd your father, and we loue our selfe,And that I hope will teach you to imagine.Enter a Messenger with Letters.Messe.These to your Maiesty, this to the Queene.King.From Hamlet, who brought them?Messe.Saylers my Lord they say, I saw them not,They were giuen me by Claudio, he receiued themOf him that brought them.King.Laertes you shall heare them: leaue vs.

High and mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your kingdome, to morrow shall I begge leaue to see your kingly eyes, when I shall, first asking you pardon, there‐vnto recount the occasion of my sud­ daine returne.

King.What should this meane, are all the rest come backe,Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?Laer.Know you the hand?King.Tis Hamlets caracter. Naked,And in a postscript here he saies alone,Can you deuise me?Laer.I am lost in it my Lord, but let him come,It warmes the very sicknes in my heartThat I liue and tell him to his teeth,Thus didst thou.King.If it be so Laertes,As how should it be so, how otherwise,Will you be rul'd by me?Laer.I my Lord, so you will not ore‐rule me to a peace.King.To thine owne peace, if he be now returned,As liking not his voyage, and that he meanes,No more to vnder take it, I will worke himTo an exployt, now ripe in my deuise,Vnder the which he shall not choose but fall:AndPrince of Denmarke.And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,But euen his mother shall vncharge the practise,And call it accedent.Laer.My Lord I will be rul'd,The rather if you could deuise it soThat I might be the organ.King.It falls right,You haue beene talkt of since your trauaile much,And that in Hamlets hearing for a qualityWherein they say you shine, your summe of partsDid not together plucke such enuy from himAs did that one, and that in my regardOf the vnworthiest siedge.Laer.What part is that my Lotd?King.A very riband in the cap of youth,Yet needfull too, for youth no lesse bomesThe light and carelesse liuery that it wearesThen settled age, his sables, and his weedesImporting health and grauenes; two monthes sinceHeere was a Gcntleman of Normandy,I haue seene my selfe, and seru'd against the French,And they can well on horse‐backe, but this GallantHad witch‐craft in't, he grew vnto his seate,And to such wondrous dooing brought his horse,As had he beene incorp'st, and demy‐natur'dWith the braue beast, so farre he topt me thought,That I in forgery of shapes and tricksCome short of what he did.Laer.A Norman wast?King.A Norman.Laer.Vpon my life Lamord.King.The very same.Laer.I know him, well he is the brooch indeedAnd Iem of all the Nation.King.He made consession of you,And gaue you such a maisterly reportFor art and exercise in your defence,And for your Rapier most especiall,That he cryd out t'would be a sight indeedIfThe Tragedy of HamletIf one could match you; the Scrimers of their nationHe swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,If you oppos'd them; sir this report of hisDid Hamlet so enuenom with his enuy,That he could nothing do, but wish and begYour sodaine comming ore to play with you.Now out of this.Laer.What out of this my Lord?King.Laertes was your father, deere to you?Or are you like the painting of a sorrowe,A face without a heart?Laer.Why aske you this?King.Not that I thinke you did not loue your father,But that I know, loue is begunne by time,And that I see in passages of proofe,Time quallifies the sparke and fire of it,There liues within the very flame of loueA kind of weeke or snuffe that will abate it,And nothing is at a like goodnes still,For goodnes growing to a plurisie,Dies in his owne too much, that we would doeWe should doe when wee would: for this would changes,And hath abatements and delayes as many,As there are tongues, are hands, are accedents,And then this should is like a spend‐thrifts sigh,That hurrs by easing; but to the quicke of th'vlcer,Hamlet comes back what would you vndertakeTo show your selfe indeed your fathers sonneMore then in words?Laer.To cut his throat i'th Church–King.No place indeede should murther sanctuarize,Reuengde should haue no bounds: but good LaertesWill you doe this, keepe close within your chamberHamlet return'd, shall know you are come home,Weele put on those shall praise your excellence,And set a double varnish on the fameThe french man gaue you: bring you in in fine ogetherAnd wager ore your heads; he being remisse,Most generous, and free from all contriuing,WillPrince of Denmarke.Will not peruse the foyles, so that with ease,Or with a little shuffling, you may chooseA sword vnbated, and in a pace of practise,Requite him for your Father.Laer.I will doo't,And for the purpose, Ile annoynt my sword.I bought an vnction of a MountibanckeSo mortall, that but dippe a knife in it,Where it drawes blood, no Cataplasme so rareCollected from all simples that haue vertueVnder the Moone, can saue the thing from deathThat is but scratcht withall, Ile tutch my pointWith this contagion, that if I gall him slightly, it may be death.King.Lets further thinke of this.Wey what conueiance both of time and meanesMay fit vs to our shape if this should fayle,And that our drift looke through our bad performance,Twere better not assayd. Therefore this proiect,Should haue a backe or second that might holdIf this did blast in proofe; soft let me see,Wee'le make a solemne wager on your cunnings,I hau't, when in your motion you are hote and dry,As make your bouts more violent to that end,And that he calls for drinke, Ile haue preferd himA Challice for the once, whereon but sipping,If he by chance escape your venom'd stucke,Our purpose may hold there; but stay, what noyse?Enter Queene.Quee.One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele,So fast they follow; your Sisters drownd Laertes.Laer.Drown'd, O where?Quee.There is a Willow growes ascaunt the Brooke,That showes his hoary leaues in the glassy streame,There with fantastique garlands did she makeOf Crowflowers, Nettles, Dasies, and long PurplesThat liberall Shepheards giue a grosser name,But our cull‐cold maydes doe dead mens fingers call them.There on the pendant boughes her coronet weedsMClambrinThe Tragedy of HamletClambring to hang, an enuious sluer broke,When downe her weedy trophæs and her selfe,Fell in the weeping Brooke, her clothes spred wide,And Mermaide‐like a while they bore her vp,Which time she chaunted snatches of old laudes,As one incapable of her owne distresse.Or like a creature natiue and indewedVnto that element, but long it could not beTill that her garments heauy with their drinke,Puld the poore wench from her melodious layTo muddy death.Laer.Alas then is she drownd.Quee.Drownd, drownd.Lar.Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia,And therefore I forbid my teares; but yetIt is our tricke, nature her custome holds,Let shame say what it will, when these are gone,The woman will be out. Adiew my Lord,I haue a speecha fire that fainewould blase,But that this folly drownes itExit.King.Let's follow Gertrard,How much I had to doe to calme his rage,Now feare I this will giue it start againe.Therefore lets follow.Exeunt.Enter two Clownes.Clowne.

Is she to be buried in Christian buriall, when she wilfully seekes her owne saluation?

Othe.

I tell thee she is, therfore make her graue straight, the crow­ ner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian buriall.

Clow.How can that be, vnlesse she drown'd herselfe in her owne defence.Oth.Why tis found so.Clow.

It must be so offended, it cannot be else, for heere lyes the poynt, if I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues an act, and an act hath three branches, it is to act, to doe, to performe, or all, she drownd her selfe wittingly.

Oth.Nay, but heare you good man deluer.Clow.

Giue me leaue, here lies the water, good, here stands the man,Prince of Denmarke. man, good, if the man goe to this water & drowne himselfe, it is will he, nill he, he goes, marke you that, but if the water come to him, and drowne him, he drownes not himselfe, argall, he that is not guilty of his owne death. shortens not his owne life.

Oth.But is this law?Clow.I marry i'st, Crowners quest law.Oth.

Will you ha the truth an't, if this had not beene a gentlewo­ man, she should haue bin buried out a Christian buriall.

Clow.

Why there thou sayst, and the more pitty that great folke should haue countenance in this world to drown or hang themselues, more then their euen Christen: Come my spade, there is no aunci­ ent gentlemen but Gardners, Ditchers, and Graue‐makers, they hold vp Adams profession.

Oth.Was he a gentleman?Clow.A was the first that euer bore armes.Ile put another question to thee, if thou answerest me not to the pur­pose, confesse thy selfe.Oth.Goe to.Clow.what is he that builds stronger then either the Mason, theShipwright, or the Carpenter.Oth.the gllowes‐maker, for that out‐liues a thousand tennants.Clow.

I like thy wit well in good faith, the gallowes dooes well, but how dooes it well? It dooes well to those that do ill, now thou doost ill to say the gallowes is built stronger then the Church, argal, the gallowes may doe well to thee. Too't againe, come.

Other.Who buildes stronger then a Mason, a Shipwright, or aCarpenter.Clow.I, tell me that and vnyoke.Oth.Marry now I can tell.Oth.Too't.Clow.Masse I cannot tell.Clow.Cudgell thy braines no more about it, for your dull asse will not mend his pace with beating, and when you are askt this question next, say a graue‐maker, the houses he makes last tell Doomesday.Goe get thee in and fetch me a soope of liquer.In youth when I did loue did loue,Song.Me thought it was very sweetTo contract O the time for a my behoue,O me thought there a was nothing a meet.M2Enter.The Tragedy of HamletEnter Hamlet and HoratiHamHas this fellow no feeling of his busines? a sings in graue­ makingHora.Custome hath made it in him a property of easines.Ha.Tis een so, the hand of little imploiment hath the daintier senceClow.But age with his stealing steppesSong.hath clawed mee in his clutch,And hath shipped me into the land, as if I had neuer beene such.Ham.

That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once, how the knaue iowles it to the ground, as if twere Caines iaw‐bone, that did the first murder: this might be yͤ pate of a polliticiāpollitician, which this Asse now ore‐reaches. one that would circumuent God, might it not?

Hora.It might my Lord.Ham.

Or of a Courtier, which could say good morrow my Lord: how dost thou sweet Lord? This might be my Lord such a one, that praised my lord such a ones horse whēwhen a ment to beg it: might it not?

Hora.I my Lord.Ham.

Why een so, & now my Lady wormes Choples, & knockt about the maz er with a Sextens spade; heer's fine reuolution and we had the trick to see't, did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggits with them: mine ake to thinke ont.

Clow.A pickax and a spade a spade,Song.for and a shrowding sheet,O a pit of Clay for to be made for such a guest is meet.Ham.

There's another, why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? where be his quiddities now, his quillities, his cases, his tenurs, & his trickes? why dooes he suffer this mad knaue now to knock him a­ bout the sconce with a durty shouell, and will not tell him of his acti­ on of battery: hum, this fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his Statutes, his recognisances, his fines, his double vou­ chers, his recoueries, to haue his fine pate full of fine durt: will vou­ chers vouch him no more of his purchases & doubles then the length and breadth of a payre of Indentures? The vety conueyances of his Lands will scarcely lye in this box, and must th'inheritor himselfe haue no more? ha.

Hora.Not a iot more my Lord.Ham.Is not parchment made of sheepe‐skinnes?Hora.Prince of Denmarke.Hora.I my Lord, and of Calue‐skinnes too.Ham.

They are Sheepe and Calues which seeke out assurance in that, I will speake to this fellow. Whose graue's this sirra?

Clow.Mine sir, or a pit of clay for to be made.HamI thinke it be thine indeede for thou lyest in't.Clow.You lye out ont sir, and therefore tis not yours; for my partI doe not lye in't, yet it is mine.Ham

Thou dost lye in't to be in't and say it is thine, tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyest.

Clow.Tis a quicke lye sir, twill away againe from me to you.Ham.What man dost thou digge it for?Clow.For no man sir.Ham.What woman then?Clow.For none neither.Ham.Who'is to be buried in't?Clow.One that was a woman sir, but rest her soule shee's dead.Ham.

How absolute the knaue is, we must speake by the card, or equiuocation will vndoo vs. By the Lord Horatio, this three yeares I haue tooke note of it, the age is growne so picked, that the toe of the pesant comes so neere the heele of the Courtier he galls his kybe. How long hast thou bene a Graue‐maker?

Clo.Of the dayes i'th yeare I came too't that day that our last?King Hamlet ouercame Fortinbrasse.Ham.How long is that since?Clo.

Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that, it was that very day that young Hamlet was borne: he that is mad and sent into England.

Ham.I marry why was he sent into England?Clow.

Why because a was mad: a shall recouer his wits there, or if a doe not, tis no great matter there,

Ham.Why?Clow.Twill not be seene in him there, there the are men as mad (as hee.Ham.How came he mad?Clow.Very strangely they say,Ham.How strangely?Clow.Faith eene with loosing his wits.Ham.Vpon what ground?Clow.

M3Ham.The Tragedie of HamletHam.How long will a man lie i'th earth ere he ro?Clow.

Faith if a be not rotten before a die, as we haue many po­ kie corses, that will scarce hold the laying in, a will last you some eight yeare, or nine yeare. A Tanner will last you nine yeare,

Ham.Why he more then another?Clow.

Why sir, his hide is so tand with his trade, that a will keepe out water a great while; & your water is a sore decayer of your whor­ son dead body, heer's a scull now hath lyen you i'th earth 23. yeares.

Ham.Whose was it?Clow,A whorson mad fellowes it was, whose do you think it was?Ham.Nay I know not.Clow.A pestilence on him for a mad rogue, a pourd a flagon ofRenish on my head once; this same skull sir, was sir Yoricks skull, theKings Iester.Ham.This?Clow.Een that.Ham.

Alas poore Yoricke, I knew him Horatio, a fellow of infinite iest, of most excelent fancy, hee hath bore me on his backe a thou­ sand times, and now how abhorred in my imagination it is: my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lyppes that I haue kist I know not how oft: where be your gibes now? your gamboles, your songs, your fla­ shes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roare, not one now to mocke your owne grinning, quite chopfalne. Now get you to my Ladies table, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this fa­ uour she must come, make her laugh at that.

To what base vses we may returne Horatio? Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till a find it stopping a bunghole?

Hora.Twere to consider too curiously to consider so.Ham.

No faith, not a iot, but to follow him thether with modesty enough, and likelihood to leade it. Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust, the dust is earth, of earth wee make Lome, & why of that Lome whereto he was conuerted, might

theyPrince of Denmarke.They not stoppe a Beare‐barrell?Impeious Cæsar dead, and turn'd to Clay,Might stoppe a hole, to keepe the wind away.O that that earth which kept the world in awe,Should patch a wall t'expell the waters flaw.But soft, but soft awhile, here comes the King,Enter King Quee. Laertesand the corse.The Queene, the courtiers, who is this they follow?And with such maimed rites? this doth betoken,The corse they follow, did with desprat handForedoo it owne life, twas of some estate,Couch we a while and marke.Laer.What Ceremony else?Ham.That is Laertes a very noble youth, make.Laer.What Ceremony else?Doct.Her obsequies haue beene as farre inlarg'dAs we haue warranty, her death was doubtfull,And but that great command ore‐swayes the order,She should in ground vnsanctified beene lodg'dTill the last trumpet: for charitable prayers,Flints and peebles should be throwne on her:Yet heere she is allow'd her virgin Crants,Her mayden strewments, and the bringing homeOf bell and buriall.Laer.Must there no more be doone?DoctNo more be doone.We should prophane the seruice of the dead,To sing a Requiem and such rest to herAs to peace‐parted soules.Laer.Lay her i'th earth,And from her faire and vnpolluted fleshMay Violets spring: I tell thee churlish Priest,A ministring Angell shall my sister beWhen thou lyest howling.Ham.What, the faire Ophelia.Quee.Sweets to the sweet, farewell,I hop't thou should'st haue beene my Hamlets wife,I thought thy bride‐bed to haue deckt sweet maide,And not haue strew'd thy graue.aer.O trebble woeFallThe Tragedie of HamletFall tenne times double on that cursed head.Whose wicked deede thy most ingenious senceDepriued thee of, hold off the earth a while,Till I haue caught her once more in mine armes;Now pile your dust vpon the quicke and dead,Till of this flat a mountaine you haue madeTo'retop old Pelion, or the skyesh headOf blew Olympus.Ham.What is he whose griefeBeares such an Emphasis, whose phrase of sorrowConiures the wandring starres, and makes them standLike wonder wounded hearers? tis IHamlet the Dane.Laer.The Diuell take thy soule,Ham.Thou pray'st not well, I prethee take thy fingers (from my throat,For though I am not spleenatiuash,Yet haue I in me something dangerous,Which let thy wisedome feare; hold off thy hand?King.Plucke them a sunder.Quee.Hamlet, Hamlet.All.Gentlemen.Hora.Good my Lord be quiet.Ham.Why, I will fight with him vpon this theameVntill my eye‐lids will no longer wagge.Quee.O my sonne, what theame?Ham.I lou'd Ophelia: forty thousand brothersCould not with all their quantity of loueMake vp my summe. What wilt thou doo for her.King.O he is mad Laertes.Quee.For loue of God forbeare him?Ham.S'wounds shew me what th'out doe:Woo't weepe, woo't fight, woo't fast, woo't teare thy selfe,Woo't drinke vp Esill, eate a CrocadileIle doo't: doost come heere to whine?To out‐face me with leaping in her graue,Be buried quicke with her, and so will I.And if thou prate of mountaines, let them throwMillions of Aeres on vs, till our groundSindging his pate against the burning ZoneMakePrince of Denmarke.Make Ossa like a wart, nay and thou'lt mouth,Ile rant as well as thou.Quee.This is meere madnesse,And this a while the fit will worke on him,Anon as patient as the female DoeWhen that her golden cuplets are disclosedHis silence will sit drooping.Ham.Heare you sir,What is the reason that you vse me thus?I lou'd you euer, but it is no mater,Let Hercules himselfe doe what he mayThe Cat will mew, a dogge will haue his day.Exit Hamlet, and Horatio.King.I pray thee good Horatio waite vpon him.Strengthen your patience in our last nights speech,Weele put the matter to the present push:Good Gertrard set some watch ouer your sonne,This graue shall haue a liuing monument,An houre of quiet thereby shall we seeTell then in patience our proceeding be.Exeunt.Enter Hamlet and Horatio.Ham.So much for this sir, now shall you see the other,You doe remember all the circumstance.Hor.Remember it my Lord.Ham.Sir in my heart there was a kind of fightingThat would not let me sleepe, me thought I layWorse then the mutines in the bilbo's, rashly,And praysd be rashnes for it: let vs know,Our indiscretion sometime serues vs wellWhen our deepe plots doe fall, and that should learne vsTher's a diuinity that shapes our ends,Rough hew them how we will.Hora.That is most certaine.Ham.Vp from my Cabin,My sea‐gowne scarft about me in the darkeGropt I to find out them, had my desire,Fingard their packet, and in fine with‐drewTo mine owne roome againe, making so boldNMyThe Tragedy of HamletMy feares forgetting manners to vnfoldTheir graund commission; where I found HoratioA royall knauery, an exact commandLarded with many seuerall sorts of reasons,Importing Denmarkes health, and Englands to,With hoe such bugges and goblins in my life,That on the superuise no leasure bated,No not to stay the grinding of the Axe,My head should be strooke off.Hora.I'st possible?Ham.Heeres the commmission, read it at more leasure,But wilt thou heare now how I did proceed.Hora.I beseech you.Ham.Being thus be‐netted round with villaines,Or I could make a prologue to my braines,They had begunne the play, I sat me downe,Deuisd a new commission, wrote it faire,I once did hold it as our statists doeA basenesse to write faire, and labourd muchHow to forget that learning, but sir nowIt did me yemans seruice, wilt thou knowTh' effect of what I wrote?Hora.I good my Lord.Ham.An earnest coniuration from the King,As England was his faithfull tributary,As loue betweene them like the palme might florish,As peace should still her wheaten garland weareAnd stand a Comma tweene their amities,And many such like, as sir of great charge,That on the view, and knowing of these contents,Without debatement further more or lesse,He should those bearers put to suddaine death,Not shriuing time alow'd.Hora.How was this seald?Ham.Why euen in that was heauen ordinant,I had my fathers signet in my purseWhich was the model of that Danish seale,Folded the writ vp in the forme of th'other,Subscrib'd it, gau't th'impression, plac'd it safely,ThePrince of Denmarke.The changling neuer knowne: now the next dayWas our Sea‐fight, and what to this was sequentThou knowest already.Hora.So Guyldensterne and Rosencraus goe too't.Ham.They are not neere my conscience; their defeatDooes by their owne insinuation growe,Tis dangerous when the baser nature comesBetweene the passe and fell incenced poyntsOs mighty opposits.Hora.Why what a King is this!Ham,Dooes it not thinke thee stand me now vppon?Hee that hath kild my King, and whor'd my mother,Pop't in betweene the election and my hopes,Throwne out his Angle for my proper life,And with such cosnage, i'st not perfect conscicnce?Enter a Courtier.Cour,Your Lordshippe is right welcome backe to Denmarke,Ham.I humbly thanke you sir.Doo'st know this water‐fly?Hora.No my good Lord,Ham.

Thy state is the more gratious, for tis a vice to know him, He hath much land and fertill: let a beast be Lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the Kings messe, tis a chough, but as I say, spaci­ ous in the possession of durt.

Cour.

Sweet Lord, if your Lordshippe were at Leasure, I should impart a thing to you from his Maiesty.

Ham.I will receiue it sir with all dilligence of spirrit, your bonnet to his right vse, tis for the head.Cour.I thanke your Lordship, it is very hot.Ham.No beleeue me, tis very cold, the wind is Northerly.Cour.It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed,Ham.But yet me thinkes it is very soultry and hot, or my com­ plexion.Cour.

Exceedingly my Lord, it is very soultry, as t'were I cannot tell how: my Lord his Maiesty bad me signifie to you, that a has layed a great wager on your head, fir this is the matter.

Ham.I beseech you remember.Cou.

Nay good my Lord for my ease in good faith, sir here is newly come to court Laertes, beleeue me an absolute gentlemāgentleman, full of most N2excellentThe Tragedy of Hamlet excellent differences, of very soft society, and great showing: in­ deede to speake feelingly of him, he is the card or kalender of Gent­ try: for you shall finde in him the continent of what part a Gentle­ man would see.

Ham.

Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you, though I know to devide him inuentorially, would dizzie th'arithmeticke of memory, and yet but raw neither, in respect of his quick saile, but in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soule of great article, and his infusion of such dearth and rarenesse, us to make true dixion of him, his semblable is his mirrour, and who els would trace him, his vmbrage, nothing more.

Cour.Your Lordship speakes most infallibly of him.Ham.The concernancy sir, why do wee wrap the Gentleman in our more rawer breath?Cour.Sir.Hora.Ist not possible to vnderstand in another tongue, you will doo't sir really.Ham.What imports the nomination of this Gentleman?Cour.Of Laertes.Hora.His purse is empty already, all's golden words are spent.Ham.Of him sir.Cour.I know you are not ignorant.Ham.I would you did sir, yet in fayth if you did, it would not much approoue me, well sir.Cour.You are ignorant of what excellence Laertes isHam.

I dare not confesse that, least I should compare with him in excellence, but to know a man well, were to know himselfe.

Cour.

I meane si for this weapon, but in the imputation layd on him by them in his meed, hee's vnfellowed.

Ham.What's his weapon?Cour.Rapiar and Dagger.Ham.That's two of his weapons, but well.Cour.

The King sir hath wagerd with him six Barbary horses a­ gainst the which he has impaund as I take it six french Rapiers and Poynards, with their assignes, as girdle, hanger and so. Three of the cariages in faith, are very deare to fancy, very responsiue to the hilts, most dilicate carriages, and of very liberall conceit.

Ham.What call you the carriages?Hora.I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done.Prince of Denmarke. done.Cour.The carriage sir are the hangers.Ham.

The phrase would be more German to the matter if wee could cary a Cannon by our sides, I would it might be hangers till then, but on, six Barbary horses against six french swords their as­ signes, and three liberall conceited carriages, that's the French bet against the Danish, why is this all you call it?

Cour.

The King sir, hath laid sir, that in a dozen passes betweene your selfe and him, hee shall not exceede you three hits, hee hath layd on twelue for nine, and it would come to immediate tryall, if your Lordshippe would vouchsafe the answere.

Ham.How if I answere no?Cour.I meane my Lord the opposition of your person in tryall.Ham.

Sir I will walke heere in the hall, If it please his Maiesty, it is the breathing time of day with mee, let the foyles be brought, the Gentleman willinge, and the Kinge hold his purpose; I will winne for him and I can, if not I will gaine nothing but my shame, and the odde hits.

Cour.Shall I deliuer you so?Ham.To this effect sir, after what florish your nature will.Cour.I commend my duty to your Lordshippe.Ham.Yours doo's well to commend it himselfe, there are no tongues els for's turne.Hora.This Lapwing runnes away with the shell on his head.Ham

A did so sir with his dugge before a suckt it, thus has he and many more of the same beede that I know the drossy age dotes on, onely got the tune of the time, and out of an habit of incounter, a kind of misty collection, which carryes them through and through the most prophane and trennowned opinions, and doe but blowe them to their tryall, the bubbles are out

Enter a Lord.Lord.

My Lord, his Maiesty commended him to you by younge Ostricke, who brings backe to him that you attend him in the hall, hee sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time?

Ham

I am constant to my purposes, they follow the Kings plea­ sure, if his fitnes speakes, mine is ready: now or whensoeuer, pro­ uided I be so able as now.

N3Lord.The Tragedy of HamletLord.The King and Queene and all are comming downe.Ham.In happy time.Lod.

The Queene desires you to vse some gentle entertainment to Laertes, before you goe to play.

Ham,Shee well instructs me,Hora.You will loose my Lord.Ham.

I doe not thinke so, since hee went into France, I haue bin in continuall practise, I shall winne at the ods; thou would'st not thinke how ill all's heere about my heart, but it is no matter.

Hora.Nay good my Lord.Ham,

It is but foolery, but it is such a kinde of game‐giuing, as would perhaps trouble a woman.

Hora,

If your mind dislike any thing, obay it. I will forestall their repaire hether and say you are not fit.

Ham.

Not a whit we defie augury, there is speciall prouidence in the fall of a Sparrowe, if it be, tis not to come, if it bee not to come, it will be now, if it bee not now, yet it will come, the readines is all, since no man of ought hee leaues, knowes what ist to leaue betimes, let bee.

A table prepard, Trumpets, Drums and Officers with Cushions, King, Queene, and all the state Foiles, Daggers, and Laertes.King.Come Hamlet, come and take this hand from me.Ham.Giue me your pardon sir, I haue done you wrong,But pardon't as you are a Gentleman, this presence knowes,And you must needs haue heard, how I am punishtWiih a sore distraction: what I haue doneThat might your nature, honor. and exceptionRoughly awake I heere proclaime was madnes,Wast Hamlet wronged Laertes? neuer Hamlet.If Hamlet from himselfe be tane away,And when hee's not himselfe, doo's wrong Laertes,Then Hamlet doo's it not, Hamlet denies it,Who dooes it then? his madnes. Ift be so,Hamlet is of the faction that is wronged,His madnesse is poore Hamlets enemie,Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd euill,Free me so farre in your most generous thoughtsThat I haue shot my arrowe ore the houseAndPrince of Denmarke.And hurt my brother.Laer.I am satisfied in nature,Whose motiue in this case should stirre me mostTo my reuendge, but in my tearmes of honorI stand a loofe, and will no reconcilement,Till by some elder Maisters of knowne honorI haue a voyce and president of peaceTo my name vngor'd: but all that timeI doe rciue your offerd loue, like loue,And will not wrong it.Ham.I embace it freely, and will this brothers wager franckly play.Giue vs the foiles.Laer.Come, one for me.Ham.Ile be your foile Laertes, in mine ignoranceYour skill shall like a starre i'th darkest nightStick fiery of indeed.Laer.You mocke me sir.Ham.No by this hand.King.Giue them the foiles young Ostricke, cosin Ham.You know the wager,Ham.Very well my Lord.Your grace has layde the ods a'th weaker side.King.I doe not feare it, I haue seene you both,But since he is better, we haue therefore ods.Laer.This is to heauy: let me see another.Ham.This likes me well, these foiles haue all a length.Ostr.I my good Lord.King.Set me the stoopes of wine vpon the table,If Hamlet giue the first or second hit,Or quit in answer of the third exchange.Let all the battlements their ordnance fire.The King shall drinke to Hamlets better breath,And in the cup an Onixe shall he throw,Richer then that which foure successiue KingsIn Denmarkes Crowne haue worne: giue me the cups,And let the kettle to the trumpet speake,The trumpet to the Cannoneere without,The Cannons to the heauens, the heauens to earth,NowThe Tragedy of HamletNow the King drinkes to Hamlet, come beginne.Trumpets the while.And you the Iudges beare a wary eye.Ham.Come on sir.Laer.Come my Lord.Ham.One.Laer.No.Ham.Iudgement.Ostr.A hit, a very palpable hit.Drum, trumpets and shot. Florish, a peece goes off.Laer.Well, againe.King.Stay, giue me drinke, Hamlet this pearle is thine.Heeres to thy health, giue him the cup.Ham:Ile play this bout first, set it by a whileCome, another hit. What say you?Laer.I doe confest.King.Our sonne shall winne.Quee.Hee's fat and scant of breath.Heere Hamlet take my napkin rub thy browes,The Queene carowses to thy fortune Hamlet.Ham.Good Madam.King.Gertrard, doe not drinke.Quee.I will my Lord, I pray you pardon me.King.It is the poysned cup, it is too late.Ham.I dare not drinke yet Madam, by and by.Quee.Come, let me wipe thy face.Laer.My Lord, Ile hit him now.King.I doe not think't.Laer.And yet it is almost against my conscience,Ham.Com for the third Laertes, you doe but dally.I pray you passe with your best violenceI am sure you make a wanton of me.Laer.Say you so come on.Ostr.Nothing neither way.Laer.Haue at you now.King.Part them, they are incenst.Each lose his rapier and take up the contrary.Ham.Nay come againe.Ostr.Looke to the Queene there hoe.Hora.They bleed on both sides, how is it my Lord?CresOstr.Host ist Laeres?Laer.Why as a woodcock to mine owne sprindge. OstrickIPrince of Denmarke.I am iustly kild with mine owne treachery.Ham.How does the Queene?King.She sounds to see them bleed.Quee.No, no, the drink, the drinke, O my deare HamThe drinke, the drinke, I am poysned.Ham.O villanie! hoe let the dore be lock't,Treachery, seeke it out.Laer.It is heere Hamlet, thou art slaine,No medcin in the world can do thee good,In thee there is not halfe an houres life,The treacherous instrument is in mthy handVnbated and enuenom'd, the foule practiseHath turn'd it selfe on me, loe here I lyeNeuer to rise againe: thy mother's poysned,I can no more, the King, the Kings too blame.Ham.The point enuenom'd to, then venom to thy worke.All.Treason, treason.King.O yet defend me friends, I am but hurt.Ham.Here thou incestious damned Dane,Drinke of this potion, is the Onixe heere?Follow my mother.Laer.He is iustly serued, it is a poyson temperd by himsefe.Exchange forgiuenes with me noble Hamlet,Mine and my fathers death come not vppon thee,Nor thine on me.Ham.Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee;I am dead Horatio, wretched Queene adiew.You that looke pale and tremble at this chance,That are but mutes, or audience to this act,Had I but time as this fell Sergeant DeathIs strict in his arrest. O I could tell you!But let it be; Horatio I am dead,Thou liuest, report me and my cause arightTo the vnsatisfied.Hora.Neuer beleeue it;I am more an antike Romane then a Dane,Heere's yet some liquor left.Ham.As th'art a manGiue me the cup, let goe, by heauen Ile hate,OOThe Tragedy of HamletO God Horatio! what a wounded nameThings standing thus vnknowne, shall I leaue behind me?If thou didst euer hold me in thy heart,Absent thee from felicity a while,And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paineA march a farre off.To tell my story: what warlike noise is this?Enter Osrick.Osr.Young Fortinbrasse with conquest come from Poland,Th th'embassadors of England giues this warlike volly.Ham.O I die Horatio,The potent poyson quite ore‐growes my spirit,I cannot liue to heare the newes from England,But I do prophesie the election lightsOn Fortinbrasse, he has my dying voyce,So tell him with th'occurants more and lesseWhch haue solicited, the rest is silence.Hlra.Now cracks a noble heart, good night sweet Prince,And flights of Angels singe thee to thy rest.Why dooes the drumme come hethe?Enter Fortinbrasse, with the Embassadors.Fortin.Where is this sight?Hora.What is it you would see?If ought of woe, or wonder, cease your search.Fortin.This quarry cries on hauock, O proud deathWhat feast is toward in thine eternall cell,That thou so many Princes at a shotSo bloudily hast strooke?Embas.The sight is dismallAnd our affaires from England come too late,The eares are sencelesse rhat should giue vs hearing,To tell him his commandement is fulfilld,That Rosencraus and Guyldenstirne are dead,Where should wee haue our thankes?Hora.Not from his mouthHad it th'ability of life to thanke you;He neuer gaue commandement for their death;But since so iump vpon this bloody questionYouPrince of Denmarke.You from the Pollock warres, and you from EnglandAre heere arriued, giue order that these bodiesHigh on a stage be placed to the view,And let mee speake, to th'yet vnknowing wor ldHow these things came about; so shall you heareOf cruell, bloody and vnnaturall acts.Of accidentall iudgements, casuall slaughters,Of deaths put on by cunning, and for no cause,And in this vpshot, purposes mistooke,Falne on the inuenters heads: all this can ITruely deliuer.Fort.Let vs hast to heare it,And call the noblest to the audience,For me with sorrow I embrace my fortune,I haue some rights of memory in this kingdome,Which now to claime my vantage doth inuite me.Hora.Of that I shall haue also cause to speake,And from his mouth, whose voyce will draw no more,But let this same be presently perform'dEuen while mens mindes are wilde, least more mischanceOn plots and errors happen.Fort.Let foure CaptainesBeare Hamlet like a souldier to the stage,For he was likely, had he beene put on,To haue prooued most royall; and for his passage,The souldiers musique and the right of warreSpeake loudly for him:Take vp the bodies, such a sight as this,Becomes the field, but heere showes much amisse.Goe bid the souldiers shoote.exeunt.FINIS.O2